Thursday, 31 December 2015

Come my dear




I'm seeing him for the first time tomorrow 
I'm excited 
but tensed 
I don't know what to expect 
I'm curious 
A little worried
what he is going to look like

Something in me tells me there's something good in him
Like I'm going to discover myself, live the life I've always wanted 
I'm going to be happy 
I'm eager to see him
Yet I'm concerned
I want to be free
Will he let me live my fantasies
Or will he make me rot in the drudgery of expected roles?

I can't wait to embrace him
But I want to be assured I'll be safe with him

I have mixed feelings 

Queasy yet expectant 
Like one who's expecting,
anticipating yet a little worried about the pangs

When tomorrow comes
I'll be with him
And I'll do my best
And trust God for the rest

Come my dear 2016!



 ©Radiant~ December 2015

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Saturday, 26 December 2015

Confessions of the Lachrymose




It seems I was thoroughly misunderstood in my last post. I got calls from concerned friends telling me to be strong-hearted 'cause life is tough and I'll face worse situations. I've decided to write this to explain what I casually said then. Maybe someone would be able to relate to it and proffer help based on experience. 

There are some people that have larger tear glands than others. They say they have the gift of tears. They are not necessarily emotional people. A lot of times their crying has nothing to do with how they feel about the situation they are crying about. Let me tell you how it is with me. 

I could cry wolf in emotional events and I could cry same in ordinary events. I cry when I see excellence displayed like when I'm in a concert, watching a singer or a dancer. I remember crying the first time I saw Jackie Evancho's YouTube videos. I still cry when I watch those performances she did when she was ten/eleven. It's understandable that I cried for Passion of the Christ but amusing to some that I wailed while watching Akeelah and the bee. I cry in situations when I feel humiliated. The other day, I was to alight from a bus. The driver had refused to stop completely, expecting us to jump off while it was still in motion. The lady before me jumped off and as I was about to join her, the bus sprinted off, sending me sprawling across the tarmac. I felt so humiliated. By the time I turned to the driver who had by now stopped (I'm guessing under the influence of raged passengers), I burst into tears. I tried to stop it but I only cried the more. I boarded a Napep and still couldn't stop crying though I didn't incur any injury as to make me cry. The motherly woman beside me noticed and pepped me up. 'Don't worry Jesus knows your pain', she said. I wished I could tell her 'don't worry ma'am. I'm fine', but she wouldn't have believed me. 

Recently, I went to submit an application in LUTH for myself and my friends. I had convinced one of them to give it a try though she hadn't finished Youth Service. I had gone through all the rigors: going to the cyber cafe, bank, filling forms, making photocopies, I had reached the last stage- time to submit. Then the man said he had closed 'cause it was past 4pm. I persisted, begged, bought him Malt to cool his brain, yet he was adamant. After much dilly dallying, he finally agreed, sulkily. While he was sorting out the forms, he noticed one didn't have NYSC cert. You should have seen the glee on his face as he gave me back that form and led me to the door. He practically threw me out of his office and locked it up. I didn't follow him out immediately because I was already sobbing. I didn't want him to see me crying. I wasn't crying for being thrown out of the office but for the fact that I was the one who encouraged my friend to apply and she had gone through the rigors of sending the forms through her brother, even the money she wasted buying it. 

You should understand that in these situations, I did not want to cry. It is rather embarrassing to see an adult cry like that in public. If I could voluntarily stop it, I would have. I wasn't seeking attention. In fact, I try to run away from such situations and when it happens I try to stay on my own so as not to cause a scene.

My lachrymosity comes in handy when a crying role is needed in our plays. Because it comes easy, I do it perfectly and people think 'Oh, she's such a good actress'. Lol. Sometimes, it paves way for me. Like once I was in a bank, after standing on queue for 4 hours, it was finally my turn and the teller said she was sorry, that their server was bad. I didn't know when tears began to roll down my cheeks. She noticed and asked what was wrong. I said nothing. She went inside, talked to someone, came out and collected my slip, processed it in an inner office and handed me my money. Or once I went to complain at EKEDC office about the disconnection of our power supply. I was talking in anger and next I knew I began to cry. The poor man was helpless, he didn't know when he asked me to sit down, called his foot soldiers to go reconnect it without me paying a dime of the proposed reconnection fee. 

I'm easily moved to tears even in ordinary events like when someone is telling me a personal story, when I see someone else crying, when I'm accused wrongly or when I've been cheated. So yesterday's incident wasn't about the money. I hope you can now see where I was coming from. Just as you will never understand what it's like to be a stammerer unless you're one (and there are grades of severity), you might never understand what it's like to be lachrymose except you are.

©Radiant ~December 2015
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Thursday, 24 December 2015

What Happened To Radiant?


You haven't heard from me for like a month now and you're wondering whatever happened to the passionate and chatty Radiant. Well, I just got stuck in the writer's block. You know I always wait for some kind of inspiration to hit me before I start writing. But today, I was reading a blog post by an 18yr old college girl and it struck me that I had actually strayed from my roots. I used to just write about things that happen to me and that's what blogging is about, right? Like a log of events, call it a journal, a diary, whatever. But recently I've been more concerned with writing a perfect story. So it's not really like I had the writer's block but I've written many things which I didn't think were good enough so I just dumped them. I want to be that blogger that whenever you see her post, you just have to read it 'cause you know it's not going to be a waste of your time- she really has something interesting to say, not just another joker suffering from logorrhea. I always try to make my posts worth it even if it means not having regular or many posts. I just hope that next year will be different. This is more than 2 years and I'm happy with the progress I've made, but I pray it skyrockets next year. I pray the inspiration keeps coming, interesting events (good ones please) keep happening, writing will and energy keep coming, readers keep following and getting blessed, commenters keep commenting, and money keeps coming. Yea, money. I mean that literally. It's time to start making real figures and not just some 0.5 dollars a month. What! Who lives on that? Anyway, thank God this ain't about money. Otherwise, it would have been shut down by now. Hehehe. I thank God for my followers. You keep me going. When I feel like I'm insignificant, a like on a Facebook link to my blog tells me 'just maybe not'.

So to turn a new leaf, I'll start by forcing myself to write something for Christmas. How could Christmas Day pass and I don't have a post on my blog. I'm saying it here so I don't get an option to elope. I have to write something. And I hope it's good. So I'm going to be more observant, more in tune with my inner self because that's where the inspiration comes from. At worst, I get to say a merry Christmas to my followers, but I'm sure it wouldn't be that bland. I know inspiration comes when you're prepared for it. Actually, the truth is when I'm so occupied in thoughts and activities, I don't get anything to write. But when I'm expectant, like waiting on it in the midst of my activities... boom! something just happens that is worth telling and so I pick my tab and it just flows. Enough said. I better get to work. 



Meanwhile, Merry Christmas!!!

Radiant~ December 2015

Monday, 30 November 2015

What Really Matters To God


What Really Matters To God

Recently, I read The Final Quest by Rick Joyner and got a wake up call to what really matters to God. Also, I have noticed that in Scripture God keeps emphasizing helping the orphans, widows and the needy. He said on the last day the criteria for separating the sheep and goat will be showing love to the least of His brethren- offering food, shelter, clothing, visiting the sick and those in prison. One day, during a personal Bible study, I was flabbergasted to see what the sin of Sodom was as recorded in Ezekiel 16:49 "Sodom's sins were pride, gluttony and laziness, while the poor and needy suffered outside her door".

But we are all too occupied with how to make it in life. How to look successful among our equals—my-mate-must-not-pass-me syndrome. When we get out of school, at first we are trying to survive. We tell everyone coming to us for help that we don't have a job or that we are still serving. When we get our first job, depending on the pay our priorities change. If it's 100K and above, we start saving up to buy a car, and so have little to offer those in need, if it is lower we say we are still struggling. And I am so guilty of this. 

When I was in school with 12,000 Naira pocket money, I was still a giver. I saw students who weren't receiving any pocket money and so I gave out of the little I had. Sometimes I'd have to go hungry for a while. But when I started housemanship, I didn't remember all that. I now had the capacity to help and not adversely suffer for it, but all my mates were saving to buy cars. I knew I couldn't buy a car with the money except I really scrimped, but to justify what I used my house job money for I decided to save some, which I used to do my music. I still helped some people, but I had quickly forgotten how it had been in school and didn't give to students who needed it most.

I had thought my poverty days were over in school, but maybe this was why I had to go through that test again just after service when 'allowee' was no longer coming in. I went back to the days of believing God for my next meal, having different ingenious concoctions born out of paucity of resources. I have discovered again the most basic physical need of man- food. O Lord, may I never forget. Help me to be an extension of your hand to those in need. May I always do what really matters to You.

©Radiant~ November 2015

Wednesday, 11 November 2015

Val's Day in FEDACAD



Last Val's day, Senior Tolu received 5 pieces. It was especially ridiculous because she was bragging on her gee and telling everyone to watch out for her truck load of presents. And we all watched out and had our fill of laughter. Too bad for Aniekan, my roommate who was sent to deliver the gift. She bore the brunt of her frustration. Now many girls are mum about tomorrow. I can almost hear the heart beats of some seniors. Guys just know how to crash our hopes and toss our reps. I have learnt not to expect much on days like this especially during love feasts. Last FCS love feast, I had given a packet of cornflakes. Guess what I received in return... An orange! —the very one that was served during lunch that day. Some of my friends received tissue paper, used toothpastes and all sorts of measly gifts. The most annoying thing was how these boys painstakingly wrapped those gifts, decorating them with colorful 'I love you' wrapping sheets. It is nevertheless easy to tell which ones recycle previous love feasts' wrapping sheets by the rumpled and overly cello-taped cover. Maybe the plan was to have vanished into thin air before you had finished unwrapping it. Such gifts were from J-boys anyway. No Senior would try that except a chronic tosser.

This term has been very interesting. It feels good to wear skirt instead of pinafore, be free from punishments forever, free from gutter and cloakroom duties. I'm a room worker. I'm more organized now. I even have a clique. I get mojos in class, I run PG, I move with the happening chicks. I wear caftan. I mime. I scale fence. I smuggle out of school to town to make my hair. I'm a big girl.

Tonight, I'm too excited to sleep. I've made a friend in class. We are like 5 and 6. He walks me down the hostel every night after prep carrying my books. My friends have asked me if we are dating but I don't know how to answer that. We are not like the others. I can't even say we are pairing. We don't hold hands or hug. We talk in open places and not only in the dark. We just enjoy each other's company. Some of our class guys still chyke me even though they see us together everyday. I know he secretly admires a close friend of mine. But he's too shy to ask her out. So I really can't say we are dating. We are just best friends. But I can't sleep 'cause butterflies are scrambling in my stomach. And I'm at a dilemma whether to give him a gift.  

The sky is full of stars. The night is cool. There's always an air around seasons like this, something that tickles our fancies, pretty much like Christmas. We are sleeping on courtyard because it's dry season and we can't stand the heat inside. It's on nights like this that everyone is equalJ-girls, Senior girls, everyone's mattress outside. I like these nights because I get to spend the night with my friends. We stack our mattresses together so as to cuddle together and chitchat way into the night. Nothing like lights out. Not even the head girl can stop the stars from shining. But tonight's unusually quiet.

Noise from clanging metal wakes me up. Who is banging on the pole? When did I even fall asleep? I draw my covers above my head, thankful that I'm a Senior girl. Now I have right to extra sleep. I remember today is St. Valentine's Day. My heart skips a beat. Can't I just behave like it's an ordinary day and not sell myself out?

It's actually an ordinary day. The sun hasn't kissed the moon. And it wouldn't. That happened last term when we were told not to look directly at the sun during the 3-minute eclipse. Breakfast is as expected: Spaghetti and egg. Thanks to the new Princi, it would have been beans and gaf. There's nothing special about assembly today. In fact, it seems Library club forgot the significance of this day. I'm not the only one with mouth agape to listen to Afe deliver a speech on Phobias on Val's day! I think the library prefect should be sacked.

Class girls are all staring at me. I wonder what it is about. Has he put a surprise on my locker? And I don't have enough time to practice a surprise and oh-my-gosh-this-is-so-romantic reaction. I fix my gaze forward not wanting to glance at him, pretending today means nothing to me. I get to my locker. Nothing on top. I take tissue paper from my bag and bend to clean the chair, inspecting below to see if there is any surprise gift beneath the locker. I quickly sit hoping to have somehow masked my disappointment. So what's all the stare about?

Hassan passes me a mojo from him. I open it not knowing what to expect. It reads: 'Happy Val's Day'. That's it? I don't know how to react. Do I place a smile at the corner of my mouth. Do I turn to look at him? I can feel the eyes of our class girls on me. What's just so wrong today? I reply the mojo and pass it back to Hassan without lifting my face. 

I manage to push the kooky events past me, telling myself this is a normal day. During break, I meet him at Tuck shop and we chat as usual. Class is over. He comes to pick my books and walks me down the hall for lunch. Nothing unusual still.

It's after prep. All girls are at the hostel doors waiting on J-girls coming with gifts from over the fence. The first was a flower and a card for an SS2 girl from a secret admirer. She sent them back. Next was a medium-sized teddy bear and chocolate for a JSS3 girl from her school pop who is the head boy. With every gift landing, there are frenzied screams and people running helter skelter with the J-girl from the gate to the recipient's room. It's always crazy on Val's day. Games is automatically cancelled. From Val's cards, to flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, everyone is on the look out for the biggest gift. An SS3 girl got a big teddy bear, a customized frame, Ferrero Rocher box of chocolates and some assorted biscuits from her gee. Even I went to behold the truck load of gifts. 

It's bedtime. Today was normal after all. No gift. What was I even expecting? It's not like we are dating, are we? 5 of my set girls asked me what he gave me. I'm sure the gist has spread that I got nothing. But then, I gave nothing. 

I take my mattress to courtyard, position it beside Sonia's. I have not slept for long and someone taps me. 'Senior Ope says I should give you this', she says. It's unbelievable. I look at her handa wrapped gift. I hurriedly unwrap it to reveal a fancy writing pad and felt pens of different colours. I'm ashamed and regret that I didn't give anything. I lift my head to ask her when he gave it to her but she has vamoosed. I notice he left me a mojo. I open it.

Happy Val's Day Best Friend.


Slang Glossary
Chyke: To toast a girl
Cloakroom: Toilet and bathroom facility 
FCS: Fellowship of Christian Students
Fedacad: Federal Government Academy, Suleja, Niger State
Gaf: Garri
Gee: Boyfriend
Gist: Talk, news, story
Mojo: Private love notes
PG: Abbrv. for private gist between a boy and a girl
Piece: A piece of meat or fish
Princi: Principal
Toss: Reduce reputation
Tosser: Someone who reduces his reputation by his actions

©Radiant ~November 2015 
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Tuesday, 20 October 2015

My Comment On Linda's Banana Island Mansion


Yesterday, Linda Ikeji posted pictures of her new house in Banana Island, Ikoyi, Lagos. She said she bought it for over half a billion Naira. I was among the people that shared the link not necessarily because I was very impressed with the house (and I was pretty much) but because of the inspirational message she added below the pics. I was really inspired and motivated by her message to young girls to believe in God and themselves, not look unto a man to save them from poverty, to be consistent in whatever they are doing. Her statements that struck me most were "you're more powerful than you think" and "when God wants to bless you, he will bless you, even if you're selling toothpick".




Now my advice to the millions that saw her post and have since been making calculations, planning on a change of career or have been depressed thinking they are failures because a 35 yr old female could achieve this and they are 40 just managing to pay rent.

1. We have different assignments and different callings in life. God will judge you based on the fulfillment of the very calling he assigned to you and not because you appeared on Forbes' list. 

2. It is God that gives power to make wealth. Don't be fooled thinking because Linda says she stays up late nights and is up blogging while many are still sleeping, that hardwork and only hardwork is the key to success. God blesses whom he wants to bless. He makes conditions favourable for your success. You can't get favour by hardwork. You can't even get life changing opportunities by hardwork. They say success is when opportunity meets preparation. So your business is to be prepared (hardwork) and leave the rest to God. He lifts people in his time.

3. We have different pathways even to our diverse destinies. For fellow bloggers, don't think because Linda says her breakthrough in blogging began about 5 yrs ago and she's been blogging for almost 9 yrs, that it will take you the same number of years to start making it big. It may take you less or more. When she started blogging her goal was not to make so much money as to buy a mansion in Banana Island. So that should not be your goal either. 

4. Consistency. She mentioned that in her post. I like to say that success doesn't happen over night. Consistency is what gets you there and if you're not passionate about what you do, how can you be consistent? That's why for people thinking on starting blogs because of yesterday's news, think twice. The road to success could be a long boring difficult road. Only the passionate make it to their destination. Remember, it is not necessarily about what you set out to do but about what you're willing to go through (hardwork), your consistency (which is a factor of passion) and God who decides what he wants to do with your life "even if you're selling toothpick".

You may not be on Forbes list, or buy a mansion but you may put many on Forbes list and in heaven, you get your reward based on what you were called to do, not what men celebrated you for. 

See you at the top.

©Radiant~ October 2015

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Sunday, 4 October 2015

The Story of a Girilized J-girl


I'm in trouble. I always am. Ever since I became her plate carrier, I have not escaped from punishments. I serve punishments during siesta and after night prep. Sometimes even before breakfast. From Squat And Fly Your Arms to Ride Okada to Pick Pin and the latest Agama Agama. Sometimes, mostly at night, she just makes me sit idly on courtyard in the cold for hours. Other seniors give non-corporal punishments like scrubbing the gutters, mopping the corridors, doing the room. She prefers to punish the flesh. I'm called her plate carrier, but that's an understatement. I am practically her slave. I do everything for her save to wash her panties which I'm sure she'd have delegated to me if the gist wouldn't toss her rep. I know that because she stores them in her bucket for days until she has no extra to wear. Then she brings them all out and washes them, spreading them on the lines in front of our room (Room 4) and Room 5, pretending to be a Sacow because they are all white.

I am a gutter worker. As if that is not unfortunate enough, I have to queue at the borehole to fetch her water every morning, then queue up in Room 2 among seniors that will always chance me to boil her water. I also become their available J-girl and they keep sending me. By the time I'm done with that, J-girls are banned from cloakroom, so I have to feign that I'm seeing my period to be allowed to bath at the count of 10 or go to Blue house surrounding and get caught, attracting punishment or simply do rub and shine. When she's up, I take her water to cloakroom, secure a space for her, keep monitoring it to know when it is her turn, while I'm doing my duty, but she expects her bed to be laid, uniforms ironed and sandals scrubbed by the time she is out of cloakroom. They call me a jomo worker because most times my duty is not complete when they chase us out of the hostel for dining. Inspectors for the day come and complain about the gutters and I acquire punishment from the house captain for that day.

While people are taking a nap and preparing for afternoon prep, I am squatting and flying my arms under the hot Northern sun, acquiring more melanin pigments as if to say I don't have enough. Then the house captain releases me just as she is banging on the pole and shouting, 'all girls out of dorm at the count of 10. 9. 8. 7...' I'm thrown into a frenzy, rushing to change to my blue check and get my bag for prep. I come out just as the dorm gate is being locked and another prefect on duty tells us to squat and fly our arms. She releases us after a while and we run down to class just in time to meet a male prefect already punishing late comers. We join them. He takes down our names and releases us asking us to come with our cutlasses after prep. So while my mates are doing games, I'm having labour. I jab my portion and get back to the hostel to prepare for dinner and night prep.

If I'm lucky, my plate mistress has no punishment for me. That's rare anyway. She will definitely find something to accuse me of. Like the day Senior Dobi decided to eat her piece. Senior Dobi wanted to punish J-girls and asked us to submit all our pieces for the next meal. I didn't hear the announcement because I was busy on an errand. I came back to the hostel with my plate mistress' food which I had managed to smuggle without getting caught and there was Senior Dobi, fork in hand and mouth full, with a trail of J-girls holding up their pieces. It was too late to run. I tried to explain that it wasn't mine but she had swallowed it before asking what I had said.

If I'm lucky, I get to at least choose the books I'll read during night prep. But in no time we are being chased out of dorm again. I have to go to her table and submit her plate for her share. If her share is too small, I have to make it up with mine if not I'll serve punishment. I don't have a fork because seniors are always borrowing it and never returning. So I have to wait for a friend to finish using hers. Sometimes I'm after someone that's after someone. I get to rush my food when I finally get the fork because in no time they'll share The Grace and expect us to vamoose. I have to rush down to dorm to drop her food before I go for prep and I have to do this as quickly as possible to escape punishment. Night prep is longer than afternoon prep. I open my book to study but immediately fall asleep. Our prep supervisor spots me and asks me to stand up. I stand but I still sleep while standing. The whole class laughs at me. I'm ashamed of myself. But I'm too sleepy to save my rep.

You see, that is why I'm a giri. My uniforms are never ironed. Wearing them clean and dry is a big feat which happens only on Sundays. I am always late for every function. On top of that, I'm a bed-wetter. Nobody wants to have me on their bunk, so I sleep on the floor most nights. I currently don't have a mattress because the last time I scrubbed it, I forgot to bring it in and the rain fell heavily on it. Rain was frequent that period and so there was no hope of it drying. One day, I went to check on it and found out it had been tossed. How I cried that day.

The only happy times I have are breakfast on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. She does not like loaf, so I eat all her loaves, except she asks me to give it to her school daughter. It's so annoying that I don't only serve her but also her school daughter who is my classmate. I like Saturdays too because after inspection and breakfast, I zap to staff quarters, to my guardian's house where I wash my clothes, watch a movie and eat home cooked meals. I also get to eat home cooked meals on visiting days. They never come for me but I have Muslim friends who live in the North. During visiting days, I go to share their food and Kilishi with them.

With my girilized life, I'm unable to read ahead for exams. I always take twenty-something position. It's end of term and I'm in Imo bus, a big Macopolo bus. We spent last night loading the bus with our boxes. I'm happy to go home but I'm in soup. My report card reads 32nd out of 33. I'm afraid. The girl seated next to me won't keep her mouth shut because she came first in her class. This is going to be 9 hours of torture. When I reach home, I will definitely receive many lashes and they'll decrease my sets of provisions. I hope it doesn't affect my pocket money. At least, I passed somebody. I won't let them know it was a tie.

I wake up with a start as the bus jerks forward. Students are jubilating. I look out of the window. We've arrived. Our parents have been waiting for us. I catch a glimpse of my mom and I look away. Tears and shame cloud my eye. I'm in serious trouble.


©Radiant~October 2015


Glossary
Chance: To jump a queue
Cloakroom: Toilet and bathroom facility
Giri: An unorganized person
Girilized: Unorganized
Jab: To cut grass
J-girl: A girl in Junior Secondary School
Jomo: To rush a duty and not do it well
Kilishi: Dried meat
Loaf: Bread
Piece: Meat or fish
Rub and Shine: To wash face and arms and apply cream and powder as alternative to bathing
Sacow: An extremely neat person
Share: Food
Toss: To throw something away
Zap: To escape


Please note that Radiant's Blog has been moved to another site: www.radiant.ng
For more recent posts and comments please visit radiant.ng and subscribe to the mailing list. Thanks for your support.
This is a fictional work based on true life events

About My Labels



My Poems: These are poems written by me. Could be real or fictional
My Memoirs: These are accounts of my true life events
My Thoughts: My opinions on subject matters
Fact and Fiction: Fictional works based on true life events

~Radiant

Sunday, 27 September 2015

YALI West Africa Week 4

By this time we had begun to lose our fire. Prof. Dankwa was gone with our YALI time. People showed up for classes at 9am. We were split into our various classes: Entrepreneurship, Public Administration and Civic Leadership. My Entrepreneurship class was the most interesting. We had practicing entrepreneurs as guest speakers come to tell their stories about how they started small, the challenges they faced and how they've managed the glory. We had Philip Ayesu( Multiple Concepts, X-men), Christy Brown (fashion designer), Akila (beaded bags). The most exciting for me was Leymah Gbowee, a Nobel Peace Prize Laureate who spoke with us as a mother would her children. 

She addressed the entire YALI participants advising us not to be in a hurry to make the headlines, not to run without brains just because we are called The Cheetah Generation, but to be consistent in what we do and wait for our own time. She also shared her family life with us, explaining how she has tried to cope with being a mother of six, traveling different continents every week for speeches and being a wife to her also traveling husband.


She ended her talk stating that she has been able to achieve all these because of the God she serves. She professed her Christian faith and advised us to have faith in God. She left with a standing ovation from all over the hall and people struggling to take pictures with her. I feared we would push her down in the struggle, so I decided to only snap with her when my group was called. It was a thought provoking moment for us.


Snapshots with the founder of Akila

The bag in front is one of her products. I bought it and it's really beautiful. You can order yours via www.akilashop.com

Click here to see week 3

Please note that Radiant's Blog has been moved to another site: www.radiant.ng

For more recent posts and comments please visit radiant.ng and subscribe to the mailing list. Thanks for your support.

Thursday, 10 September 2015

Empire Review




So I finally saw Empire, after much recommendation by friends who thought I needed it for my music career. It's an interesting movie, great story line, beautiful acts, nice songs, great performances, great lessons to learn about the music industry and music business. However, it's not a movie I'd recommend to my younger ones or anyone at that. The devil is tricky. He hides his agenda behind interesting stories. You need to be spiritually dead to not see the works of the flesh that that movie promotes. 

1. It trivializes fornication and adultery. Like most movies of the west anyway, they make you believe adultery is inbuilt in men. Like they can't help but cheat and so make us ladies think it's a battle between us and the other lady on who can have the man. It teaches women to get back at their men by also being promiscuous. 
2. It promotes homosexuality and other sexual perversions. It wants you to believe that there are people born that way and you should accept them because they are normal. It tries to convince you that they can raise children, be great in what they do and so you need to accept that lifestyle. Well, whatever God says is bad is bad. There's no explanation that can counter the fact that He says it is an abomination and actually a punishment for godlessness.
3. It treats Christianity with disrespect like it is a crutch for poor blacks. It even quotes some Bible verses twisting their meanings. 
4. It makes betrayal and backstabbing look acceptable and necessary for success. 
5. It promotes murder and revenge. 

I understand that they are trying to be real by showing us what obtains in the real world. But really, believe it or not media defines culture. The more bad stuff is promoted without showing consequences, the more people grow to believe it's alright and begin to practice what they see in the movies. And then the movies replicate those things as 'reality' and it becomes a vicious cycle.

It really got me thinking what we believers are doing to take over the entertainment kingdom for God. It's not really about making Christian films that only Christians will watch. It's about making quality movies and music that the toughest sinners can't even resist and there's nothing promoting the devil and his works in it. Righteousness can be promoted without throwing Jesus at people's faces. People will always buy excellence whether religious or not.

While we wait for the manifestation of the sons of God, be careful what you watch or listen to because some paradigms are passed into you without your knowing it. 


©Radiant~ September 2015

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Wednesday, 2 September 2015

Sorry for the long silence

hi guys. I'm really sorry I have not posted new topics on this blog. I have been so busy at the Accra Regional Centre. Once I'm a little free, be sure that I'll post something interesting. Meanwhile do well to visit www.hulkshare.com/chidiogoradiant to enjoy my songs. Ciao



Saturday, 22 August 2015

YALI West Africa Week 3

This week was less hectic than last. I was glad to not come back from classes with bloodshot eyes and a headache like I did last week. We got a lot of inspiration from guest speakers. One was Farida Bedwei, a young woman who rose against her cerebral palsy disability to become a software programmer and CEO of her own tech company. It was a very inspiring moment for us. We left there asking ourselves what excuse we had for not living out our full potentials. I learnt from her to delete ' I can't ' from my vocabulary but rather replace it with 'I will try'.


This week we were privileged to meet with the former president of Ghana, President John Kuffour

We also sent forth Prof. Ofori Dankwa of the Siginaw Valley State University, Michigan, who had been our facilitator from the beginning alongside Prof. Saffou and Dr. Marc Hardy. We are all going to miss him. We all love his style of teaching which he calls 'serious play'. He taught us the YALI song, introduced YALI time instead of African time, taught us how to sandwich our critical comments. We were blessed to have him with us. We only wish he could stay some more.



©Radiant 

Click here for Week 2

Click here for Week 4





Sunday, 9 August 2015

YALI West Africa Week2

This week we were drilled with so many assignments and team projects, working with short deadlines, having altercations within our teams, e.t.c. It was a challenging experience. 


My team emerged winner of the 8 teams in Elephant Group. Our assignment was to create a poster showing the practical, creative and individual strategies we propose for fighting corruption.

There were 24 teams, 3 big groups: Lions, Elephants and Eagles. So we had 3 winners, one from each group.

Meet my team

Winning poster from Lions's group

Creative works from other teams












©Radiant 

Click here to see week 3






Tuesday, 4 August 2015

YALI West Africa Week 1

I'm brimming with gratefulness to God for the privilege of being a participant at the pioneer set of Young African Leaders Initiative West Africa, an Obama initiative created to discover and train young emerging African leaders in the areas of business and entrepreneurship, public administration and civic leadership. It's been interesting and very educative. I've made some friends from Ghana, The Gambia, Liberia and even fellow Nigerians. As characteristic of me, I've been taking a lot of selfies with them. One of my new friends from Sierra Leone has even promised to send me a selfie stick when he gets back. Hahahaha. 

 When we arrived Kotoka airport, Accra.

 That's me right there as the link forming letter 'A'
 If Scrabble aint part of a program, that program aint for me. Lol
We had excess food, well still do. May I not come back with folds
Elephant group taking a pic with our facilitator, Dr. Marc Hardy and his wife on their last day with us
 What I do best


Radiant ~ August 2015

Click here for Week 2