Love In Unexpected Places

Like caramel in a lion's cadaver

Christ in Majesty born in a manger

Shekels in a shark's braces

There could be love in unexpected places

Ever feel like the shit in the mud

Trodden, sunken, swept by the flood

Now in sight, unsightly, causing smirks on smiling faces

There could be love in unexpected places

There could be love in unexpected places

Like treasure veiled in uninviting cases

Thunderous victories in unprepared races

And in gifts as teensy as tiny shoe laces

Some seek love in lemon Lamborghinis

Others in blue perfumed bedrooms

I found it in the pain and punctured palms

Of a marred and mangled man

#LoveInUnexpectedPlaces

©Radiant~ December 2014

(In the spirit of Christmas)

Motor Park Brouhaha

'Anyi abanyego na tipa bu aja!', exclaimed a passenger.

By this time yesterday, I was in the middle of an uproar that ended in a torn shirt, raised blood pressures and someone at risk of losing his job. I was to travel from Enugu to Lagos yesterday and by 7am I was at a popular traveling company's motor park in Enugu. I went to the counter to buy a ticket and was told to buy it from the bus where an agent was selling them. I counted my cash and handed it over, watching circumspectly to see that there was no behind-the-scene business like my friend experienced last month in that same park. 

She had withdrawn some money from the bank and was paying with them except that she took her eyes away for some split seconds and next thing she heard was the cashier shouting 'counter!' returning her money. He had exchanged one of her 1000 Naira notes with a counterfeit. She was shocked to the marrow but she couldn't defend herself 'cause she had no evidence and she was made to replace it with another 1000 Naira note. 

Because of that, I had my eyes fixed on him and as soon as I collected my ticket, I knew I was free. So I took my seat by the window. On my ticket was written 13. People trickled into the bus until it was 8:55am. The driver started the ignition. Two young men entered the bus and sat at the back. I looked scantily around and the bus looked full. We had a smooth and fast ride that by 10:55am, we arrived at their Onitsha park and the bus stopped.

I forgot to mention that before we entered the bus, we were searched thoroughly with handheld metal detectors. Everyone was asked to come out of the bus with their carry-ons and were searched. A man particularly rummaged through my travel bag claiming he felt some vibrations. Tickets were cross-checked and we entered the bus.

Now at Onitsha, we first wondered why we had to stop, but no one complained. Then the bus reversed and began to park properly in the park and murmurings began. Someone said that someone said that he heard them say that they needed to fill the bus. So we bore with them and sat down tight. Those that needed to take a leak, went out and came back. People came down to buy stuff and got back in. I too went out and while coming back, I was startled by the amount of luggage they planned to get inside that 33 seater bus called a Smart Coach.

Forty-five minutes later, the bags were packed. Loads in the boot were displaced to accommodate the heavier ones from the Onitsha passengers. They were brought up into the bus to occupy the back seats and aisle. Then it was time for the Onitsha passengers to take their seats and there were no seats. Three tie wearing, pot bellied old men working as agboros (motor park touts) came in and demanded that those without tickets should get out of the bus. It was then I began to hear things like 'attachment'.

Attachment? In a Smart Coach bus going to Lagos?

For those that don't know, attachments are small stools placed on the aisle of a bus to make it accommodate more passengers than it was designed to accommodate, but they are usually seen in public buses running within a town whose twelve cushioned chairs have not been replaced with benches that would accommodate 5 passengers per row and not in buses traveling long distances like Enugu to Lagos. 

For another forty-five minutes, it was all yelling, cursing, bullying, intimidation, fighting, tearing of shirts, women screaming, elderly women running out of the bus, young men against old men, commotion, pandemonium, all hell let loose. And me? I screamed, barely noticed like a drop of water in an ocean, then I prayed, then I searched for emergency exits. 

What really was the problem?

Two young men were found without tickets and so were asked to get up for the Onitsha passengers. And they refused, claiming that they paid for the bus but weren't issued tickets though they asked for it, because the bus was already leaving when they arrived the park. The agboros started explaining that what they paid for was attachment and not seats. We paid 3100 Naira for our tickets and these men said they were asked to pay 3000 Naira each and no one said they were going to seat on attachments. Besides, what was the difference between 3000 and 3100? However, the Onitsha agboros wouldn't hear any of that and began to drag these young men out. That was the moment of bullying and intimidation and women yelling at the shameless old men. 

They succeeded in dragging out these men, yet the Onitsha passengers were more than the available seats and they had tickets with seat numbers on them. A young man from the Onitsha passengers came in and asked one of the old agboros to show him his seat knowing that it was already occupied by someone from Enugu who had his ticket, and the agboro said cantankerously 'O mu ga-achotalu gi oche gi?' (am I the one to look for your seat for you?) The young man angrily shoved his way through the old men to pass to the back where the two young men had vacated. And they pulled him out and began to beat him and that was when the fight began. His shirt was torn. Passengers helped to rescue him from the hands of those men. An elderly woman ran out of the bus. More yelling!

This continued until a calm looking, English speaking, gentleman on Jeans walked into the bus and demanded explanation for the hubbub. The agboros had disappeared by now. Passengers vomited their rage and he pleaded with us to calm down as he was going to see to the situation. He went out and came back asking for those without tickets and we found out that the driver had his entire family seated on the front seats of the bus without tickets and without the knowledge of the management. 

Following his order, the young men that were forced out of the bus were brought back in, the Onitsha passengers were transferred with their luggages to another bus except the one whose shirt was torn. He was offered money for his torn shirt which he refused. The driver was summoned for a hearing. All these took place for the next thirty minutes. Some passengers went to beg for the release of the driver so we could continue the journey and I sat observing things, shaking my head, disgusted by that display of corruption by the driver and bullying by the shameless old men and thinking of how to frame my next blog post.

We continued our journey by 12:55pm and had a smooth ride to Lagos, but for a little traffic delay and I alighted at Jibowu by 8:55pm with bilateral grade three pitting leg edema (leg swelling up to the knee that left pits when you pressed it with your fingers).

©Radiant~ December 2014

I'm Back For Good

So sorry guys. I've been off your face for too long. I was engrossed in preps for a hip hop dance drama my church staged on Sunday. It was a long arduous two months of preparation with daily rehearsals from three weeks to the time and vigils too. It was fun nonetheless. I'm glad I volunteered to participate. I picked interest from the time the audition was announced in church. A lot of people that started with us didn't finish. And some that joined the last minute, were casted for major roles. Typifying the first shall be the last and the last, the first. We had some happy moments- free lunch and dinner packages, and sad moments; during the production, we lost 3 phones. And it was a very shameful thing for us 'cause we didn't know we had to also be careful in the presence of God. We didn't see the big picture until we were on stage with almost 3000 people as audience. We relied solely on God 'cause we couldn't see us pulling through without help. Thankfully, the event went not as planned but as good and we received applauses which we had to intentionally give back to God 'cause we knew our flaws. We knew we didn't practice with the stage, the lighting wasn't rehearsed, there was live mixing, people forgetting steps, some hitches here and there and all but only us knew these. To most of the crowd, it was a lovely performance and the story was understood. It was the story of the three Hebrew boys and how they were able to stand up against the culture they found themselves in and the worship of the golden image, thereby paying allegiance to their God. I'm now back for good!

Our Queen Nebuchadnezzar and the golden image.

What It Means To 'Not Have Light' In Your House For One Week

If you live in Nigeria in this day and age (e go beta), to 'not have light', as we say when there is power failure, is simply a norm, as normal as breathing bad air, who makes a fuss about that? But when you don't see it blinked for many days, you begin to wonder, "could they have cut our light?", an expression we use when the power holding company disconnects us because we haven't paid our bills or "has the transformer spoilt?" It had to be one of the two.

This comes with a lot of lifestyle changes that you naturally adjust to; you don't need to be taught any more than you need a tutorial to modify your lifestyle if your salary drops from five zeros to four zeros. And in Lagos, where most houses have electricity-driven boreholes, no light automatically correlates to no water.

Assuming, you are a girl, a Christian and somewhere in the middle class, this is how your typical day would look like. You're most likely going to wake up late because you either slept late tossing on your bed till 12 am, not being able to ignore the heat and sleep before your brain finally got the point: no A.C. this night or the alarm that would have woken you up is stifled under a phone that died eons ago; who uses proper alarm clocks these days—the so called digital age?

So after saying good morning to the Lord and skipping Bible study 'cause of your lateness, you feel your way to the bathroom, bringing down the toilet lid after peeing to reduce the poignant stench of ammonia emanating from the stored urine in the bowl and when you can't take it anymore, you barely flush it with the water you gleaned from various containers and spray some air freshener. Or else, to save you all that stress, you urinate straight into the bathroom hole—at least it requires less amount of water to rinse the tiles than to flush the toilet—doing the doo doo at work place because you can't afford to do it at home.

You bath with a half bucket of the remaining borehole water in your gallon and when even that is a hard-find, and you live in a street with no commercial boreholes, you buy a bag of 'pure' water and empty a few sachets, savouring every drop like you were bathing with liquid gold.

For breakfast, you have stale bread (which only escaped putrefaction because you began to leave the fridge door open from the 2nd day of no light) augmented with liquescent honey and cold tea which you're forced to have to soothe the sweltering condition of your house. You will have bananas for lunch and Indomie as dinner 'cause it makes no sense to cook a meal for one and have to warm it twice daily till it's bland, all the nutrients are gone and the vegetables are limp.

You avoid applying face powder 'cause you'd only achieve a cake plastering if you did so with the sweat that colonized your skin every morning quickly taking away the memory of the cold water bath you just had. You however, put it in your bag 'cause you must apply it at work.

You prepare for work making sure to stuff into your handbag, your smart phone and the back-up phone, usually a Nokia, their chargers, your iPad, it's charger, your rechargeable lantern, it's charger and rechargeable torch knowing that there will be light at your workplace. If push came to shove, there'll be a generator.

You end up going to work late because motion is slowed when there is no light; it takes more time to feel for things and you have to iron your dress with a stove iron and warm any left-over food before leaving. You're not itching to go home today, cause you're enjoying the A.C.ed environment and allowing time for all your gadgets to charge till a 100%.

Back to your house, your once yellow-skinned pudgy plantains from Oyingbo market have turned black and are now coated with white fur.

The television, just like the ceiling fan, hangs like another piece of art decorating the sitting room. The bedroom is rid of cobwebs 'cause now you notice them by being forced to look towards the ceiling with your back on your bed, when normally you'd be peering into the screen of your laptop seeing a movie or playing Solitaire. Sleeping becomes a hobby cause there's nothing else to do. And oh! you remember the Bible you didn't read and pick it up to read, but then you sleep off after a few verses.

The sound of your neighbour's generator suddenly is unbearable and you feel like thumping downstairs to give them some word. Now you envy them for having a generator. It was always them envying you for your inverter. While they burned fuel and dealt with noise and knocked engine wahala that came with operating generators, you simply enjoyed power without stress. But now, the tables have turned.

Your curtains are permanently rolled up, windows are open, you sleep skimpily clad and you slap your drumsticks every now and then. And depending on the situation, your dream is of enemies chasing you if your light was cut or of you as superman if the transformer spoilt.

When light is restored after one week, at first sight, you're like, 'is this light?' Getting an affirmation, you quickly bring out all your empty gallons, buckets and containers, even cups and plates, fill them to the brim, flush your toilet properly and do a thorough scrubbing lest the urine leaves a permanent yellow streak on it, wash the clothes you've piled up and then have a bath with three full buckets of water like you were thrown into shit, plug all your gadgets and plump down on the sofa to continue your movie series. You're back to your regular life. Up NEPA!

©Radiant~November 2014

Big Brother

Sometimes, I just need a brother
And not a lover

Me to clutch
But not to touch 

To cuddle
Not fondle

To lend an ear 
Not pet my rear

Sometimes, I just need a big brother

To get it off my chest
Not take off my vest

To kiss my cheek
Not peck my beak

To give me a nod
And not his rod

Sometimes, I just need a big brother

To let me lie in his arm
And not fall for his charm

To guard me from hoodlums
Not leave me with huge sums

To lead me to my bridegroom
Not lead me to his bedroom

Sometimes, I just need a big brother

©Radiant~ November 2014

International Stammering Awareness Day- Interview with Two Stammerers

                 

Since today is the International Stammering Awareness Day, I decided to interview a few stammerers and let their voices be heard on this platform. 

Meet Joseph Entekume and Tosin Smart.

When did you start stammering?

Joseph: It started when I was 4.

Tosin: I really can't remember when because I knew I started at a very young age, maybe 4yrs and above.

What do you think caused it?

Joseph: I was imitating the Late. Sam Loko Efe for a while and nobody stopped me. Also, it was a Tv series so it was a daily habit for me to imitate him.

Tosin: Well, I think it was fear, being bullied and lack of confidence.

Was any other member of your family a stammerer?

Joseph: Nope. Only me!!!

Tosin: My mum stutters once in a while because it is that obvious but I wouldn't say she is a stammerer.

What was it like, growing up as a child stammerer?

Joseph: It was bad, really bad, but sometimes it brought me good things. My teachers liked me a lot, they always had my back and I think that that, apart from me being the last-born, made me my dad's favorite.

Tosin: It wasn't a good childhood for me. You know, a lot of things you want to say but can't voice out, your opinion doesn't count because none of your friends has the patience to wait for 3 minutes to hear a 5-word sentence. So that made me a walk-over. I could hardly defend myself when lied upon and explaining matters was even worse, not to talk of answering questions in class even though you have the answers to the questions.

How did you cope in school?

Joseph: It was hard answering questions in school. I couldn't participate in debates though I was really good. And people, expecially my mates made fun of me a lot. I think it contributed to my former anger-prone self. But it got easier with time, I got better. My mates got wiser.

Tosin: It wasn't a good experience in my elementary school so what I did was move with those who were sympathetic to my cause. lol. And they spoke for me too.

How has it been with the opposite sex?

Joseph: OoooooK........stuttering has never been a hindrance when it comes to "chyking"(borrowed that from your article). Whenever I decide to talk to a girl, it's like I'm Usher. I just sing my way through..... I mean it goes away. It might creep in a bit, but then I can control it like a boss. This might sound odd but I think I'm usually in control when it comes to chyking. I discovered it in a bet. I was in SS2. My friends and I were contemplating on "TOASTING" a beautiful Nigerian brunette that was in front of us, and I opted to go first. They laughed and said I couldn't, so we bet on some money. So I walked faster, caught up with her, looked for that thing that makes me an Urhobo man (courage) and I spoke to her. It was flawless.

Tosin: Wow! opposite sex.... Well I had a crush on so many girls but couldn't find the voice or courage to approach anyone of them but only could with my eye contact and being nice. So guys that were sharper and could talk fast got the girls while I just fantasized. But all that is a thing of the past now.

What do you dread the most as a stammerer?

Joseph: Saying my name. Like when trying to introduce myself to someone. It can be really embarrassing, so I try to avoid it.

Tosin: I dread conflicts, arguments which I never win even though I might be innocent. I also dread the fact that my stammering may not leave me, that is to say I might still be stammering at my old age.

What has been your most embarrassing moment?

Joseph: Dunno, too many.

Tosin: Hmmm..... When I was asked to explain something in front of a whole class, it happened twice, in my primary school and secondary class and the whole class just bursted into laughter.

What have you achieved notwithstanding your stammering challenge?

Joseph: A lot. Talk about being the youngest in a media firm and being the supervisor. I'm a leader, that I know. And even though I stutter, people tend to listen to my opinions and words. And a lot more (can't say all).

Tosin: Being able to talk in public and dramatize infront of thousands without stuttering as long as I stick to the script.

What has been your escape method?

Joseph: Escape method???? I didn't have one before. I just made sure I said what I had to say, no matter how embarrassing it was or how many times I hit my feet on the ground. But now, when it creeps in bad, I just laugh and remind the person I'm speaking to that I stutter (then they either laugh or say, "it's ok"or "take your time")

What do you have to say to other stammerers?

Joseph: F*** the world!!!F*** them all!!! Just be you, and try to relax when talking. Take your time. People would definitely push you around mostly because they think you don't have what to say. Some will have pity on you and show it in a really embarrassing way. Sometimes market women will think you want to steal something just because they think you're pretending, maybe get a beating or two. The bus driver might cheat you and collect 100NGN instead of 50NGN for a half way trip just because you couldn't tell him where you were going to before the bus left the park. Just learn to control the pace in any situation. Look into the eyes of whoever you're speaking to and talk. Like I said, F*** the world. You're in charge. 

Tosin: I will like to advice anyone stammering to be confident, not to be quick to say words, to take their time and let the words come out slowly from their mouth.

What do you have to tell non-stammerers?

Joseph: Be patient with stammerers.

Tosin: Be patient with people stammering. Don't make fun of them as it will hurt them badly when laughed at and increase their low self esteem.

What do you think is a Stammerer's deepest need?

Joseph: Love. Trust me........"LOVE"

All thanks to Joseph and Tosin for giving me their time. If you haven't read my own account, click here

©Radiant~ October 2014

International Stammering Awareness Day- A Stammerer's Deepest Need

Published by Daily Sun Newspaper, page 29 on October 22nd 2014. 

Author: Chidiogo Ibe 

Today is the day set aside worldwide to create awareness to the public about the 1% of the world's population who have that flaw in fluency of speech, called stammering or stuttering. You might have heard one speak or heard of them during stand-up comedies

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Trembling Digits

Have you ever held unto the handle of a door and prayed that no one came near it to open it?

This was the state I found myself in on July 18, 2014 at some minutes past two in the morning. Following the previous day's hectic work, I had zonked out and sailed off to dreamland unsuspectingly until I sprang off my bed awoken by the characteristic sounds that I heard. I had heard a lady exclaim 'Jesus!' as an iron boot collided with a wooden door. I knew immediately what it was. My sister had told me that the compound had been attacked earlier in the year, so my memory cells picked the signals quickly. I saw myself hiding my iPad, picking my phone and blanket, switching off the light and running into the kitchen. I put the phone on silent mode and quickly hid it, then I held the door so tenaciously that I could have broken the handle, was it present. Since there was no handle, my fingers latched on the holes in the handle space and lost their blood supply. My heart raced like a hundred-meter sprinter and my breathing could be heard. My fingers shook so badly out of terror. This was the first time I was experiencing a burglary. I couldn't help but wonder what was going on with the lady that had screamed. I prayed that my neighbor's children would be safe. I thought about jumping off the window through our emergency exit, but 'what good would that do?', I thought. Staying outside wasn't any safer.

Then there was a bang closer to my flat. Then another. This time so loud that I was sure it was my flat. I began to remember scriptures that talked about protection and started muttering them. 'My life is hid with Christ in God', 'No weapon fashioned against me shall prosper', e.t.c. I muttered as much as I could, then spoke in tongues and continued muttering. I repeated the cycle, still standing with my fingers trembling in the two holes, hoping that they would not decide to check the kitchen. 'What if they open this door?', I considered. 'What will I do?'. I couldn't fight with a kitchen knife. That would just make them violent. Since I couldn't tackle them physically I decided it was going to be a spiritual battle. I had heard of a man who was attacked by armed robbers and asked to surrender his car keys at gunpoint, but he refused. Instead, he turned to the gun man and commanded, 'In the name of Jesus, die!' And the gun man dropped dead immediately. The others saw what had happened to their fellow and fled. I told myself that that would be my case, should they decide to open the kitchen door. 

After that peak of adrenaline surge, time lapsed and I heard no other sound. It was like they had gone, but I couldn't dare step out to see what had been done to my belongings. I just remained in my position for about two hours, after which I began to feel my legs ache and so I sat on the kitchen bucket, still holding unto the door continuing my confessions and spiritual language. More time passed, and still not hearing any sounds or movements, I decided to release my hands. I did, and my fingers came out curved and difficult to straighten. I began to take notice of rat squeaks and owl cries. I would check my phone a thousand times to see the short hand South South. It seemed to take forever. I couldn't wait for dawn to come or to start hearing the blaring of cars and the shouts of bus conductors. I now so much longed for what I despised the most about living near the road. I could now cringe at the sight of a mice—what I cared less about while I held unto the door. Several horrible thoughts flashed my mind. 'What if they decide to jump into this kitchen through the window?' I hadn't noticed that there was no protector until then. I kept saying my confessions, though afraid.

I finally began to hear sounds from cars and bus conductors but I still didn't come out. I waited another thirty minutes for it to be brighter, then I came out stealthily, careful not to make a noise. I was surprised to see that my room was intact. I checked the door and it hadn't been tampered with. So it wasn't my flat that had been broken into. I was grateful. I heard some neighbors talking, so I opened the door and discovered that the woman I heard her voice was the one with the children and she had been robbed. The other doors they broke into, unfortunately for them had no residents—one was a kitchen, the other was a flat someone had paid for but hadn't yet packed into. I packed my things, went to work that morning, but after work, went to stay with my sister.

©Radiant~ October 2014

Tragedies Of A 'Trekker'

           So today, I woke up quite late 'cause I wasn't supposed to go to work. I knew that. So I watched a movie series late into the night. When I woke up, somehow I had some feelings that I needed to go to work. My colleague and I took turns at work and today wasn't my call, so I felt I deserved some rest. So I prayed, studied my Bible and slept off again. I was awoken by the popular Nokia ring tone. It was my colleague calling. I already knew what she was going to say. 'Are you free? I can't make it to the clinic. Could you cover for me if you're free?' I agreed and not reluctantly. I liked the fact that the clinic afforded me time and a good environment to read, though I didn't like having to bear the complaints of many patients on some of my unlucky busy days. I looked at the time and it was 9:30am. I hadn't even taken my bath. So I rushed into the bathroom and out, dressed up, had my regular breakfast (bread and tea), sprayed the room with some insecticide and I was off to work. 

           It had rained heavily earlier and the roads were flooded. I waited for a tricycle to take me to the bus stop where I'd board a bus to my work place. It wasn't long I found one. I reached the bus stop and entered the bus. I was still settling in before I received a baptism of flood water, right inside the bus. 'How the hell did that happen?', I think I thought. I saw a bus run off ahead and I understood what happened. Our bus door was open and the other bus in top speed splashed water as it overtook ours. I was at the extreme, so I alongside with the conductor received the early morning baptism. It wasn't funny, but I was able to contain my annoyance. Thank God. However, the woman by my side, who only had some showers, didn't stop cursing. She was speaking in Yoruba so I couldn't understand what she was saying, but it seemed she was accusing our driver and the conductor for leaving the door open. 
          
            You know, if it were before, I'd be like 'O God, you see why I need a car'. But now, it doesn't bother me. I've learnt that life is in stages and I should make the most of every stage. So I simply stepped out of the bus and walked to my workplace and in no time, my dress was dry. The rest of the day was uneventful.

©Radiant~ 22nd September 2014

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

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Another's View Of 6th September

Today, I'll be hosting an ace writer who happens to be one of my mentions in the previous post. This is a personal letter but I feel it's too interesting to enjoy it alone. So with his consent, I share it with you. He wrote:

"It has been over a year since I sat down to write anything like this. This is because I write mostly when I'm inspired. I get inspired by experiences, life issues, people or most times, how I feel. One could think me to be a writer when I say “I write”, but I see myself more as a scribbler and this is not because it also sounds like my name (he laughs). I decided to write this because something happened to me over the past weekend. I’ll try to be short as much as I can.

I had a very busy week at work that also took a lot into the weekend. My Saturday morning was filled with chores, errands and activities that got me tired even before it was noon. I got myself so engaged that I had to call it a day before 3pm, so I decided to ease out stress by hanging out that evening. I made my way to Bode Thomas Street in Surulere where I usually have lunch at the Sweet Sensation Café, then crossed over to the Leisure mall to see a movie. After the movie, I made my way out of the mall, but with my mind on my little toy (called cell phones). I was reaching out to a number of missed calls and messages, that came through while my phone was in Silent mode, inside the cinema. They say we gravitate to people with like interests and attractions but my case was of the former not the latter. 

A group of four ladies were walking ahead of me, and as we made it to the exit foyer, they stopped to take some pictures. That was when I noticed one of them. She wore a blue blouse, a pair of black jeans and some good looking pair of sandals that made her lovely feet glitter. I'm saying this, just to express how I perceived what got my attention. I decided to speak to her after the snapshots but I got distracted once again by a text message from a colleague of mine. When I looked up and away from my phone, I realised that the ladies had already gone down the stairs and heading for the gates. I trotted down the stairs, caught up with them at the gate and asked to speak with her. She was snobby at first, which is a major turn off for me (no mature and exposed person should act that way, you know). It’s just uncontrollable pride for me. Well, I just probed a little longer because I believe in second chances and also did not want to make assumptions. She did what plenty ladies would do (keep you waiting for a while), but in the end, gave me her Facebook ID to contact her (even though I just wanted to make her an acquaintance and maybe, chat with her one on one before heading home). I got turned off again when after giving me her Facebook ID, she said she always accepts all friend requests sent to her. This meant that she was likely to have an uncontrollable number of friends, and here was I thinking that I had met a lady with high standards like yours truly. No offence here, and with no sense of pride. Did I mention that I draw lines for a living? Yes, you got me right, I'm an Architect. I get paid to pay attention to details. Let me not bore you with the details but just the summary. I took the Facebook ID and we parted ways.

I got home that night and checked her out on Facebook. I also sent her a friend request and a message. I still wanted to sit and chat with her but not over the internet. I could do more on phone calls rather than chat on a social network. My busy schedule does not allow me long periods of typing text over the internet. She did accept my friend request three days later, but has not replied my message up till now (and who in the world still does that?). I think this is because she has over 4000 friends on Facebook (FRIENDS- Not fans? Are you D.Banj?). We usually have less friends and a lot more acquaintances, fans or admirers, but her case was different. I got this manuscript ready a day after she accepted my friend request, but I could not just find time to type this up (please understand how difficult it is for me).

My aim of writing this now is to appreciate the lady that inspired me to scribble again after this long while. One lady who made me check the meaning of the word ‘Radiant’, like I never knew the meaning before. She is a writer, singer and trained medical doctor. A lady who I strongly feel radiates vigour, brilliance, humour, intellect and content (and did I mention that she is very fair in complexion?). I won’t call her beautiful, but I am sure she is pretty. I am not as good a writer as Chimamanda Adichie (who I grew up with), Linda Ikeji, and Ibe Chidiogo Radiant who inspired this. I never received any formal training in writing though I have a collection of songs and poems I think are good. Please pardon my punctuations also, I just wanted to type and send you this ASAP. You never really know someone until you relate, communicate and understand their person, before you can have genuine opinions about them. If I did not check her profile and blog online, maybe my perception about her would have gone left and never right (you know what I mean). Funny, she said I was a “Chyker” in her blog, I guess she never knew I would take much of her time by making her read this (if she ever gets to check her message from the 4040th friend- he laughs).

Chidiogo, if you ever reply this, just know that I still want to sit and chat with you for I believe it’s the most effective means of communication. I could wait a while for you to reply, hoping sooner than later, for I know that we are friends on Facebook, does not really mean that we are friends. I do not have people on my account that I do not relate with. You can be the first person to prove me wrong by having a thousand plus friends and still know something about them all.

Cheers,

Be Good, Be Strong…"

An interesting one, right? He prefers to remain anonymous.

©Radiant~September 2014

Related posts

6th September 2014

6th September 2014

             It started quite well with me doing Saturday home chores- washing the toilet and doing some laundry, while listening to a sermon. I had three slices of bread and a cup of milk for breakfast. Then I dressed up in a smart blue top and a pair of black jeans, made sure my hair was in proper alignment, packed my bag ( you know, transfer some things from one bag to the other), then scurried out of the house 'cause I was already thirty minutes late for the Tax Seminar organized by my church. 

            As I walked into the church, I was greeted by a greeter and an usher ushered me to where I was going to sit. I suddenly realized I was quite a distraction because the metal fancies on my sandals jingled as I walked. So I tiptoed, trying to stop them, but to no avail. I finally saw that delaying my movement would only prolong the distraction, so I walked faster and took my seat. It didn't take long before I got into the message of the day. Many speakers took the stage. Though I was hearing some terms for the first time and because I didn't own any business, it was quite enormous to contain, the seminar was really helpful. I'm thankful for the education and I know I'm better equipped for the future. My drama workshop was scheduled to hold at 12 noon, but the seminar had run into that time, so I waited an extra thirty minutes before I left. While in the tricycle, popularly known as 'Maruwa', I contemplated my going for the workshop ('To go or not to go', that is the question). I decided that since I was preparing for a professional exam in October, it wasn't wise to go. So I stopped at my house and brought out my book. As I began to read a few pages, I got a call from the drama director. I felt so guilty for not even taking permission to be absent, so I told him I was coming right away. I took pictures of some pages of the text- a skill we learnt in med school to save time while in the bus, then I jumped up and scurried off again. I met the workshop just at the right time. We were taken on speech for acting by our very passionate and knowledgeable director. It was a very interesting class with some fun practical exercises.

             Then came the event that made my day- seeing Izi, Carina and Uche again after eight years. These were my secondary school mates that I hadn't seen since we left school, save Uche who I saw a month ago, for the first time in that long while. That night she recognized me and called me but it took me a few seconds to recognize her through the darkness. Today's was easier. I could see everyone's faces properly. Izi's was a give-away. She still looked like her. I could recognize her anywhere, anytime. Carina had grown bigger but still recognizable. We met at Shoprite mall, Surulere, where they had been waiting for me, hugged ourselves excitedly and decided to take pictures. I quickly excused myself to the rest room to top up my make up- nothing much, just powder, cause I'd been out since morning. When I came out, I decided to ask someone to take the pics and he said we must buy something for him. I tried talking him out of it jocularly but he was adamant so I left him. I saw another young chap who I asked and he quickly accepted and I felt like blessing his generation. So we took a few pics cause we were running late and exchanged BB pins. Then we went to Filmhouse cinema at Leisure mall, where we paid to see 'Into the Storm.

            At the counter, I brought out my NYSC ID card, hoping for a discount but was disappointed to hear the cashier say that it only worked on weekdays. That ID card had never failed me before. We bought two packs of popcorn and drinks to go with. Bouncers stopped us at the entrance to Hall 2 'cause we had Coldstone ice cream with us. So we had to plead and I implored them to consider that we even bought popcorn and drinks from them, so they allowed us in. We walked in the darkness and found our way to some seats behind. As we sat, Uche suggested we should move forward, none of us responded at first. I sat and tried to recline on the seat but noticed that if I reclined, I'd be blocked by the seats in front, so I understood what Uche meant and then we agreed to move to the front. We secured comfortable seats in front and at the centre and positioned our pop corns and drinks. I was at the extreme left followed by Carina, then Uche and Izi at the extreme right. I tried to get into the story of the movie since we were fifteen minutes late, but was surprised but happy to see that they were still showing trailers of other movies. Izi was right. She had told us that trailers would take fifteen minutes and I had disputed that because I was used to starting movies at exactly the time written-trailers would have been shown before that time. But then, that was for Ozone Cinema. 

          So the movie began. Initially I recognized that the three heads were bowed down and hands were busy with their phones. Of course, changing DPs with the recent pictures of us. But it wasn't long, the heads were glued to the screen, all hairs stood up and butts were at the tip of their seats. I was so on edge. The suspense was just too much. For that moment, I forgot it was a movie. I would say things like 'oya, run away now', 'hey, how can you risk your life, are you mad?' Don't worry. I wasn't the only one. Everyone was tensed. It was about some documentary guys who were on a project to capture tornadoes as they occurred. So you can imagine the kind of suspense in it. Well, the movie ended well, without casualties in the room. I just wondered how it would have been in 3D. We actually came with our 3D glasses but were disappointed to hear that they weren't showing any movies in 3D that day. But at last, I was thankful that we saw it in 2D cause the tension might have been traumatic. (Lol)

          Outside the cinema hall, we took another set of pictures. This time we got a lady to take the pics and she proved to be professional 'cause she snapped from different angles. We got down to the road, spent some time bargaining with a cab guy and dismissing a chyker and then we had our final greetings and dispersed- Izi to Ikeja, Carina to Surulere and Uche and I to Yaba. When I got home, I was so tired but I needed to upload my pics on Instagram and write about the day. So I laid down, brought out my tablet, wrote down some part of this account, but I didn't succeed in uploading the pics due to poor network (I've done that now). Then I began to feel some hunger pangs. I had eaten only 3 slices of bread for breakfast and potato chips for lunch, asides the popcorn at the cinema, so I was really famished. I had some stew in the fridge, so I thought about cooking rice, but it was too late to eat heavy, besides I might have slept off while waiting 'cause my eyes were down heavy. I considered a light meal- Quaker Oats. But there was no milk in the fridge and I didn't like taking it without milk. Then suddenly, I thought about cooking the oats with the stew and some carrots that I had in the fridge. Ingenious indeed. I started to it and in seven minutes I had my Jollof oat meal. I ate it quite compulsorily and sank into a deep sleep. 

And that was how my day went..... *wink

©Radiant ~September 2014

(PS: I would have loved to post pics, I actually tried, but due to technical issues with my tab and probably IT ignorance, I couldn't. So click on this to see the pics. http://instagram.com/officialradiant)
      

Trapped

Tonight, my heart paces
My head pounds
Like I downed a cup of coffee
I know what's right, but it's hard to do
Tomorrow is the day
                                   And I'm only ten min's away

I so wish it were
A moving melting mirage
That I couldn't reach or catch
But I'm here now, I dunno how
Did I pause praying?                 
                                   Or did I stop studying?

'Twas while working your vineyard
I got trapped in this love yarn
Am I at fault for falling over? After all 
I asked you take them butterflies away
Nay, King of kings
                                   You gave 'em extra wings

Now my mouth blinks
My eyes mutter
I stutter
Rehearsing my parting lines
Tomorrow must come, ain't no doubt
                                    I wanna do right. I want out!



©Radiant~ August 2014

Chyking 201 (Three Case Studies)

Now this is what I've been talking about- A proper way of Chyking'.
If you've been following this blog, you probably would have come across my two articles - Chyking 101 and 102. If you have not, I kindly suggest that you scheme through them for a better appreciation of what I'm about to write.

Chyking, a word from Nigerian parlance, is the art of chatting up a lady in order to get into a closer relationship with her. It also refers to what we call 'to toast a girl'. It simply means to woo a girl. 

From my experience, I have concluded that many Nigerian guys have an approach that puts women like me off rather than attract them. I've also discovered the missing key. For me, it's politeness. Just some manner of courtesy. That's all. I'm not promising I'll let out my number but at least I'll give an ear to a polite guy. 

So after much disappointment with guys, I came across one who I'm sure hasn't read my blog but has the proper approach I discussed.

Yesterday, I was walking down to church and heard someone call me from the back. I can't  remember exactly what he said but it certainly wasn't a hiss because I turned to him, though in my heart I was like 'here comes one of them'. He didn't start by asking for my name- thank goodness. He just said 'you're beautiful', which was allowed. I mean, it is allowed to make your observation and voice your opinion. Even I, do it sometimes. So I thanked him. He then asked where I was heading to and I told him that I was going to church.

In order not to bore you with the details of the conversation-though it was quite an interesting one, basically, he didn't go the typical way that I frown against. In fact, it didn't even look to me like he was chyking me. He probably was just admiring what he saw. I remember him saying 'I'm sure that you would be getting a lot of 'distraction' on the road, I'm probably one of them'. I found that funny. Well, we just talked about what we did and then he said his name, shaking hands with me (yeah, you heard that right, SHAKING HANDS WITH ME and I didn't use a hand sanitizer afterwards), he added 'it was nice to meet you' and then began to leave. It was I who said, 'maybe you could check me on Facebook' and he came back asking if I was on BB. He then gave me his number, so I could text my pin to him. Well, if that was his own strategized method, it sure worked and still left him much respected too. 

Now, I don't remember his name, I hardly do when it comes to road chykers, but I'm sure to scroll through my phone contacts to get his number, even if it is to make him read this article. I'd really like to commend his manner of approach.  

To give you a clearer picture of what I'm saying, just ten minutes later in church, the guy next to me suddenly leaned towards me muttering some words. I had to strain my ears and ask him to repeat his lines until I deciphered that he was asking if I were a student of Yabatech. Okay, before you fall off your seat in horror, actually, the program I attended was a students' summit, so the question wasn't that tangential, though I didn't get the Yabatech part because there were several schools from Lagos to Ogun State being represented.

First, I burst his bubble by replying that I was not a student. Apologetically, he said 'oh sorry, I thought you were from Yabatech. There are many of them here'. Cool. So I'm not. What next? He seemed to recline a bit thinking of what next to say. Then he suddenly got a spark and said 'can we meet more than this?' I didn't really get that so I made him repeat the lines and heard the same thing. So I figured out what he was saying and you can guess what my response was. Of course it was a capital 'No' and I have no apologies for that. 

Interestingly, one would have thought that I'd be more favorable towards the one I met in church, sitting next to me, than the one I met on the road, but you see how the different methods made the difference. It wasn't really a factor of how they looked or spoke English, though these are very important factors for a good communication, or was it in the societal class. It was the politeness of approach. Now, I'm not advocating stopping ladies on the road to chat them up. I personally have a grudge against that. But like I said, the earlier guy's approach was commendable.

That very same day, after the program, I entered a public bus and was seated next to a man whom I hardly noticed until he began to cough. In this era of the deadly E, when someone coughs in a 'bus', you can guess the reaction of people. So I guess he suddenly got the point and just went straight to the point. 'You are beautiful' -the same opening lines with the first guy. 'Thank you', I replied like you expected.
'Are you just coming from the east?' (Now this is one of them)
'No'
'So you've been in Lagos for sometime'
'Yes'
'Are you going to Ikeja or Maryland?'
'Maryland'
(If this were a job interview, I wouldn't mind)
'Can I have your number?'
'No'
'If you don't mind'
'I mind'
'Ok, lemme give you mine'
I'd begun to get irritated.
He sensed it and left me for a while. I answered a phone call that told me to no longer stop at Maryland, but at the last bus stop at Ikeja. So we reached Maryland and the bus stopped for passengers to alight. He came down thinking I was hot on his heels. Then seeing me still seated, he decided to pee by the road. Luckily for him, there was a traffic jam, so he wasn't left behind.
He came back to the bus after voiding and continued.
'So are you from Onitsha or Asaba?'
'None'
'Or Arochukwu'
'No'
'Where are you from?'
By this time I was pretty much pissed.
Turning to him, I asked 'Why do you want to know where I'm from?
He noticed my tone and knew better not to answer that question , so he sat up and alighted at the next bus stop.

And did I mention that he had a ring on his fourth left finger, all that while?

I certainly don't need to analyze this one. Let's not over flog this issue. I hope you've gotten my point. You judge for yourself what approach is best.

A word is enough for the wise!

©Radiant~ August 2014
click here for Chyking 202

Salt Water Or No Salt Water (How To Prevent Ebola Virus Infection )

Today, I was awakened by a call from my mom who wanted to find out about the relationship between Ebola virus and salt water solution. She had been harassed by calls and text messages just this morning about how bathing with salt water will prevent Ebola virus. One of the calls was by 3am. The other said a prophet prophesied that bathing with salt water without soap will prevent it. How ridiculous!

Some say is a biological war that Americans are using against Africans. That seeing the emerging economy of Africa, Americans released Ebola, that has been in existence for quite some years into Africa, so that Africa will seek World Bank aid, borrow money and be in debt. Now World Bank recently pledged a loan of 200 million dollars to a few African countries for the prevention of Ebola and we are now in debt.

While people are dying, others because of the same thing are becoming wealthy. Broadcasts and text messages are flying everywhere. People are blogging.

Fear grips the hearts of men. People are no longer going to work for fear of contracting Ebola. People are wearing 'protective' clothes looking like those that work in a microbiology lab. But for how long? 

Has any one asked, 'where has SARS gone to?' What about Bird Flu that destabilized a lot of farmers' incomes?

People are looking for answers. 

So how can we prevent Ebola?

The other day, they said the answer was Bitter Kola. Now the Aboki man has sold out all his Bitter Kola but the epidemic still persists. And now the Salt Water theory came along, and common salt is also about to go extinct.  

Folks, the only definite answer lies in Jesus Christ. Anyone that hasn't acknowledged Him is doomed, not just in eternity but even in this life. But Christians should be aware of what they have in Christ because we will likewise perish if we keep fearing what they fear. All these are signs of the ends of time. Yea I know quite well that I sound like a broken record because you've been hearing that since you were born. But that's why we should live our lives ready for Christ's return because no one knows the day. You heard that there will be wars and rumors of wars, pestilences and famine. The current Ebola epidemic is what the Bible calls pestilence. So what should we do?

First of all, every one that is not in Christ should run to God for safety, and that, literally. If you are in Christ, stop shaking like a leaf and start confessing the Word of God about your safety. Even if your body has refused to stop shaking, don't stop your confession (I'll tell you how I did that in my diary narration of the armed robbery attack to my compound).

Therefore, look for what God has said about how he will protect His people and keep confessing. The following Scriptures (in English Standard Version unless otherwise stated) are some of the confessions I've discovered. To confess over your life, just change the second person pronouns to first person. E.g 'you' to 'me' or 'I'.

Psalm 91:1-3  He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”  For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. (You see, God has promised to deliver us from Ebola virus).

Psalm 121:7-8  The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. 8 The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore. (For those that have refused to leave their houses)

Isaiah 54:17  no weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed, and you shall refute every tongue that rises against you in judgment. This is the heritage of the servants of the LORD and their vindication from me, declares the LORD.” (For those that say it's a biological weapon of warfare by the Americans)

Col 3:3b Your life is hidden with Christ in God

Ps 27:1 (NLT) The Lord is my light and my salvation- so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?

Ps 112:7 (NLT) They (talking about they that fear The Lord and delight in obeying His commandments) do not fear bad news; they confidently trust The Lord to care for them.

Yes there are reasons to be afraid. People are dying but Jesus says 'Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world'. Therefore, keep confessing and keep believing.

This is how to prevent Ebola.

Not exactly what you expected, right?

©Radiant~August 2014

Half Of A Yellow Sun Movie- my review

Okay, now I need to talk.

I've seen a few movie reviews lately. Kind of interesting how people have so varied opinions about the same stuff. Not surprising though since we don't wear the same shirt.
Anyway, I went to the movies today. Ozone Cinema at Sabo, Yaba, Lagos, Nigeria. Do I also need to tell you it's in West Africa? I hope not. 
I saw the popular movie, 'Half Of A Yellow Sun'. 
Hmmmm (sighs), how do I begin this?

Okay, generally I think it's eh........m,  starting with the good side, I was impressed. Really. I looked out for a foolery in the costume and props and setting, you know, since it was dated back to the 60's. They pulled it off pretty well. I loved the fact that the hair styles and the dresses were old school and the cars.... I was really tripped to see right hand drive cars. It showed they were thinking. That's unlike what you see in typical Nollywood movies; not to bad-mouth anybody, but I think Nollywood directors should understand that viewers have working brains.
Back to the movie, yea, I was also impressed with the war scenes, the gun fires, bombings, they were pretty real. I couldn't believe I was seeing a Nigerian movie. Well, not like it was a Nollywood movie though.
Kudos to Onyeka Onwenu. She was just perfect for her role. I loved her acting.

But I didn't start out enjoying the movie. I was just going through the motions till the war scenes began.
And why was that?
First, I personally think that a Nigerian would have best suited the lead role. It was hard to convince me that Olanna was Nigerian, even though they said she schooled in London. No matter how long you school abroad, you should be able to pronounce at least your own name correctly. So in that case I wasn't impressed.
Secondly, I just didn't get why she had to be shown nude and then severally for that matter.
Then the sex scenes.... (shaking head) the details weren't necessary.

Being a Christian I detected a lot of wrong values being portrayed by the movie and if care is not taken, people will imbibe these as the norm.
Things like Olanna and Kainene making decisions to leave home and just informing their parents during the last supper. Kainene meeting a white man with his date in a party and she flirts about him. He leaves his date and starts seeing her, then finally marries her.
Olanna moving into the house of her boyfriend and having sex with him before marriage. Odenigbo using 'being drunk' as an excuse for sleeping with Amara and Olanna's aunt saying of Odenigbo that he just did what 'all' men do. By this they are unconsciously or maybe even consciously, you never can tell, putting it to men that infidelity is part of their genes.
Then, Olanna retaliating by sleeping with her sister's boyfriend and telling Odenigbo after he just made out with her. Such a web of licentiousness.

Yes I understand that these things are what really happen in life, but we have to make it clear also that they are wrong and have repercussions, if not the society will be formed by the values we present via media, while media will keep presenting those values as real life and it just becomes a vicious cycle. Media has a power of influence. Christians called into media should use it for good because we will be judged.

Then there was a long delay with the casting before the movie started (typical of Nollywood) and 'directed by ' appeared 3 times before the movie. Looked like the director was advertising himself. Don't know, just saying.

In conclusion, if you've not seen it, maybe you should. But don't have your hopes high because I might just have been more disappointed if I had read the novel before seeing the movie- most movies adapted from novels are less interesting than their novels. 
Also, please don't go with children or teenagers and guard your heart with all diligence. We come across so much wrong stuff daily that we just have to learn, as followers of Christ to take in the juice and spit out the gum.
(Heaves a sigh of relief), now I have quite well spoken.

©Radiant~ August 2014

Butterflies

29th June 2011
Thank you Lord for today. There's so much that happened today so where do I start my gist from?
Alright, I woke up at the right side of my bed, if there's anything like that. I had a difficult time getting up anyway 'cause I tossed and tossed trying to pray with sleep in my eyes until I finally opened them and picked my Bible. With heavy eyes I scanned through it and read today's passage at ODB(Our Daily Bread)- I can't even remember what it talked about. Then I got up and prepared for the bathroom. Without delay, I had my bath and went to Amy's room to ask for breakfast. She had just finished eating my preferred breakfast- bread- and offered me Indomie. So I cooked it, ate, fetched 'free water', read a chapter of 'The happiest people on earth' and dressed up for school. I met the bus at the gate and I was at the hospital in less than an hour. I headed for the theatre like I've done for eleven days in Anaesthesia posting, got changed into my green scrub and was ready for school work.

However, it wasn't long I lost interest like I've done in recent times. The place was smelly, anaesthetists weren't around and only two surgeries were holding at the time. I told someone to beep me if they started teaching so I could rest on the chair at the changing room, but I diverted to the auxiliary theatre where Dr. A was about to do a urethroplasty. I learnt new things there along with 2 of my classmates. We saw the old anaesthetic machine, the monitor for urethroscopy and I left again. This time I sat in front of the nurses common room 'cause there was no space at the changing room. While I was there Dr. B came and joined me on the seat next to me. This is someone I've been tripping for of recent. He is a true Christian and we attend the same church, a typical TDH (tall, dark and handsome), a doctor- not like I'm keen about the profession- and I've got these butterflies in my tummy anytime I see him. Oh, so you can imagine how I felt when he sat next to me, a mere medical student. He's kinda interested but he's a shy type. So Lord, if he is not the one for me, please take these feelings away. I need to be able to think clearly.

©Radiant

My Moment Of Wrath

Right now, I feel like hitting someone. 

I don't understand how people can be so dishonest in dealing with customers. Yesterday, I bought a donut and a bottle of drink from a provisions store near my house. It wasn't my first time of patronizing that store. I was a regular face and the woman that sold to me knew that. I gave her money, don't remember the particular denomination, but she gave me some change and said she didn't have the rest of it. I turned to leave hoping to come back for the rest of it but on a second thought I turned to her and said 'can you write it down somewhere?' She looked at me like I was patronizing her and said that there was no need for that. So I added 'I hope you will remember'. She replied emphatically, 'I will remember. I'm not like that', as if I suggested that she was a thief, which was very far from my thought. I just didn't want to come back and we start bumping heads over how much she owed me or I meet her husband and then I look like the thief. 

So I returned today hoping to collect my one hundred and fifty Naira and she started looking for ten Naira. Then said 'give me ten Naira so I'll give you twenty. You owe me one hundred and fifty Naira', I quickly added so she could remember. And she mocked me to scorn saying that she remembered she owed me ten Naira and I said let's put it down on paper and that she was like 'for just ten Naira?' I couldn't believe my ears. At first, I began to doubt myself. I tried to remember what I bought from her. I thought it was bread and milk 'cause that was my regular buy from that store. But then I remembered it wasn't bread. Rather it was donut and a bottle of drink. I reminded her of what I bought telling her it was just yesterday but she cut me short of my words saying it was the day before yesterday. That was when I was so sure that she was lying. I knew so well that it was yesterday because I didn't cook and I came down to have some snack. By then I had become bolder and was almost making a scene. Then she said she'd give me the money 'cause she was bigger than 150 but that she knew it was 10 Naira she owed me. And she brought out the money. I was so infuriated. I didn't want her to just get away with it. I wanted her to get the point. I told her never to try that with customers. That next time, to avoid any distrust, things should be done properly - she should write down the amount of debt. Then she said again, 'There's no need for that. I'm not like that'. I just collected the money and stormed out of the store saying 'I'll never come here again'. 
On my way out it just made sense why she was always so nasty and unfriendly whenever I came to buy things from her. She was a dishonest person and so goodness wasn't part of her, unlike her husband who would go out of his way to get something for me when they didn't have it in the store. I just wondered how that innocent and good man married a Jezebel for a wife. Or, is he really that innocent?
I'm sure I'm not going back to that store except her husband is the one selling.



©Radiant ~4th May 2014


Well, I sure went back to the store and have been going there everyday 'cause I had no other option. And she apologized to me the next day, saying she later confirmed from her husband that I was the one she owed 150 Naira.

More Stories From My NYSC Experience

I almost got sacked on Monday.
Or maybe redeployed to Chibok.
It's a bit complicated and seeing that I do not control who reads this post, my employers may just be going through it, so I dare not make things worse than they already are.
Lessons learnt anyway include:
1. To greet the Oba 'Kabiesi' whether it sounds good in my mouth or not.
2. To follow the Oba around like ants follow sugar until he is done with inspection.
3. To make sure I appear in the group photo with the Oba.
And to wait until the Oba leaves before I take a glass of water.
Actually, my main mistake was failure to recognize that the name of the hospital I work in starts with 'Oba' and that the Oba must not be in kingly attire for the name to take effect.
I wasn't being disrespectful. I was just being a girl from the east.
Lesson number 7, when in Rome, act like the Romans.

©Radiant~ July 2014