GHOST

HARMLESS GHOSTS OF MY PAST

Some said it was because I wore short skirts all around the house. Others said it was because I was fair complexioned and my skin was always screaming for attention. The kind ones concluded that it was my mother's fault for not noticing anything was wrong. The wicked ones blamed her for being too busy.
 I heard everything and I could only smile even through the pain.  Listening to their comments about what happened to me only made it seem more surreal. And hardened my resolve to take permanent action against my ghosts.

My name is Veronica, My story is one that might elicit pity from you. But please do not share that emotion. Learn from it and move on. Just like I have. I lost my dad when I was 13. And as painful as it was, it was much more painful for my mother who immediately assumed the role of breadwinner for my sister and I. She worked from 7am till anytime She could come home.

We learned to take care of ourselves and tried as much as possible not to bother her in any way. As the first child, I assumed the role of mother and took care of my sister to the best of my ability.
Then Came Uncle Innocent. Uncle Innocent was my dad's brother who all the while lived in South Africa.  He Came to Nigeria and my mum felt obliged to accommodate him since no other close relative lived in Lagos.

He brought a lot of goodies and made us all happy as he gradually became a part of our lives. Buying us our necessities and taking care of us. He attended all PTA meetings when mum couldn't and drove us everywhere. He was our God sent angel.. But then it only took a little while for me to realize that this angel wasn't so innocent afterall.

One afternoon Uncle Innocent sent my sister to get him some vegetables from the market. I protested because I felt she was too young to go all the way there besides the fact that we didn't need vegetables for anything in the house at that moment. He silenced me saying he wanted to make a delicacy they eat in South Africa and we would like it.  I just said okay. Excited that I'd get to eat foreign food.

As my sister left, he Locked the door and began to take off his trousers.
I was astonished. He had never done that. Before I knew what was happening, I received the slap that changed my life. He didn't utter a word.
I had heard of Rape, I experienced it first hand. I Shouted. I struggled. But his huge body didn't even allow me succeed a little. Being a hot afternoon,  everyone had gone to work. My screams yielded no attention from neighbors.
When he finished, he told me I wasn't to utter a word, else the same ordeal would be my sister's lot. The mere thought of that shut me up.

 I suffered in silence. I didn't know who to tell. I was just a mess of a broken spirit and a used body. After about 3 months Uncle Not-so Innocent left our house escorted by the police when a neighbor of ours heard my regular shouts and broke the door one afternoon. He was home on leave and heard me struggling as usual.
The story broke out to the whole community and everyone had their fair share of commentary. We had to leave the vicinity.

My mother was so sorry. She promised to reduce her working hours.
I was placed under observation in the hospital and given millions of tests and injections.
I had psychological help and a lot of counseling to help me out of the trauma. I'm 20 years old now. 7 years after the incident and I'm not the Veronica I was. I know better and I'm stronger. And even if my past has ghosts, they are completely harmless.
*****Story by Ayegba ENE,  400level Psychology, OAU*******

THERE IS NEED CRYING OVER SPLIT MILK. SINCE YOU CANT CHANGE THE PAST,  THE ONLY OPTION YOU HAVE IS TO FORGE AHEAD WITH LIFE AND STRIVE NOT TO MAKE SAME MISTAKE AGAIN. DONT ALLOW THE MISTAKE/SORROW OF THE PAST ROB YOU OF THE JOY OF TOMORROW.
*Always Remember You Can Preach A Better Gospel With The Way You Live Your Life Than With Your Lips*
Hope you enjoyed the story  and was able to learn something.  Don't forget to drop your comments and suggestions. Till we come your way again next week.
#HarmlessGhostOfMyPast
#MovingForward
#NoLookingBack
#YouthKonnect

DIARY OF A FIRE SPITTING HOUSEWIFE (finale)

.................I overheard her saying to my husband, and not for the first time I wondered why she was still alive. The Angel of death just kept missing her. I will ensure I add her name and our address the next time I am praying for her.
 Weeks later, while still waiting for my fervent prayers to be answered, my husband drove into the compound. I was lying on the sofa in the living room, reading a Nora Roberts novel when I heard him at the door I made to get up but saw someone speed past me to open the door. I had never seen the old woman so agile.
“My son welcome I can see you are with a visitor.”
I was sitting up now, my book long forgotten as I watched my husband enter.
“Welcome Honey…” I began to say when I noticed the young woman behind him; her perfume might as well be made of youth and elegance. She was so beautiful I momentarily had a feeling she had stepped out of a vogue cover magazine.
They proceeded to make themselves comfortable with Mama dancing about like someone who had been pronounced the queen of her village.
“My son is she the girl you were telling me about?”
My husband replied in the affirmative as he shrugged out of his suit jacket.
“My child what is that your name again?”
“Faiza” The name slipped out of lips so red I wondered if she had drained a human of its blood before coming.
Since I might as well be lint on the sofa for all the attention they gave me, I laid back down and picked up my novel.  But I couldn’t see a word on the paper as Mama’s voice kept forcing its way into my ears.
“What a beautiful name.” she exclaimed dramatically.
“Oyiboo! You will give me beautiful grandchildren, I know. I can already picture them.” I heard the girl’s soft chuckle.
“All those that want to die should die please. My son has found a perfect wife. The grasshopper that thinks its ears are decorative fittings will realize its foolhardiness in the bowels of the bird, yes.”
“Salamatu.” My husband called, condescension coating every word.
“Where are your manners? Get my guest something to drink.”
Before I could open my mouth Mama exclaimed.
“Ah! No please, let me get it. Who knows what people boiling with suppressed jealousy can do?”
Having had enough, I stood up and leveled my husband with a stare before turning my attention to the girl.
“Would you like a tour of the house?”
Well it was the only thing I could think of to say. They both stared at me in confusion.
“Uh no.”
“Ok then if you will excuse me.”
My smile still dazzling them I proceeded to my room.

Faiza became the most used name in the house, if I so much as blinked the wrong way Mama was quick to tell me how Faiza did it better. The house was steamy hot with conspiracy against me but though I was boiling to the point of explosion I appeared unfazed and very cheerful.
Sunday afternoon; my husband, his mother and their new favorite wife-to-be Faiza, were on the varender having snacks, laughing loudly and sharing jokes, when the sleek black car rolled into the compound to park under the Forest Flame, seconds later a tall broad shouldered drop-dead gorgeous young man stepped out, with the body of a fit footballer and the lazy confidence of a wealthy man. He walked towards them with the stealth and grace of the king of the jungle.

My husband rose to meet him and wanted to know if he knew him.
“I am Azeez.” He offered as if the name alone gave all the explanation that was needed
“I am here for Salamat.”
As if on cue I waltzed out in my sky blue gown that trailed behind me, on heels that were three inches high, my face was all made up and my lips were bloody red with lipstick.
“My Queen, I am always in awe of your blinding beauty.”
I basked in the compliment and smiled so bright the afternoon sun became jealous. I nodded and offered him my hand; he bowed and pressed a kiss to my fingers, before tucking it in the crook of his arm.
“Shall we?”
And as if on a red carpet with paparazzi swamping us we took our time going to his car, he opened my door for me, stepped aside for me to proceed in before closing it. He got in himself and we drove out.
But not before I smiled with satisfaction at the Jaws competing to touch the ground.

12:30a.m I unlocked the door and stepped into the house. Mama was sitting in a chair right in the foyer waiting for me, when she turned on the light and realized it was me she sprang into verbal abuse. When she was done insulting my entire generation and those to come, I told her goodnight and made to walk past her. It was then she struck me right across the face.
“Where do you think you are going to? You think this is your father’s house that you can come and go as you please? Shameless prostitute!”
After my head stopped reeling from the slap, I dropped the bag I was carrying, placed my phone gently on it and turned.
“You are leaving this house this—”
She didn’t get to complete the sentence when I lifted her off the floor, pushed open the door and dropped her outside.
“For a woman as old as you are you sure can slap.” I muttered closing the door and turning the lock
 I have got no words for the look on her face.
I turned off the light and went to my son’s room to check on him, he was sleeping peacefully. I closed his door gently and proceeded to our bedroom. I turned on the light and walked towards the closet. In the sitting area was my husband nursing a drink in his hand and looking twice his age. At the closet I changed all the while feeling his gaze on me. I went to the bathroom, showered, came back out in my night wear. I walked past him to the refrigerator, where I poured myself a glass of water, sipping it I went to my dresser did my usual night ritual drained the glass of water then turned on the bedside light before going to turn off the light to the room and went back to the bed. When I was all tucked in under the blanket I turned off the bedside lamp.

I find it difficult to sleep with the light on, so when the bedside lamp came back on it pulled me out of my sleep to find my husband standing over me. We studied each other for a long time in silence before he said.
“You can’t leave another man’s bed to crawl into mine.”
With that statement I knew sleep was not going to happen anytime soon. So I sat up, tightening the scarf on my head, but never said a word.
“Salamat” he called softly, the anguish evident in his voice. I said nothing, still staring defiantly at the wall across. Afterwards he moved to stand right before me and then sat on the floor Indian style, he patted the space before him.
For a long time I stared at the spot he pointed and something constricted in my chest.
When we were dating and in the early times of our marriage and he had nothing, when we used to stay in a room, whenever we had problems and wanted to talk about it, we would sit like this and talk it out until we made up.  We never left the position until we were friends again.
It was our thing…a lifetime ago.
Today looking down at him I wasn’t sure I wanted to join him.
“Salamat.” He urged.
It was the look in his eyes that made me slide down to join him. For a long while he said nothing as he studied me while I pointedly refused to meet his gaze.
“What will happen now?” He asked.
I turned to stare defiantly into his eyes.
“You tell me.”
“You can’t leave another man’s bed and enter mine, it is not done.”
“But you can leave another woman’s bed and enter mine? It is ok for you to flaunt your women before me?”
He opened and then closed his mouth, his face a perfect mixture of shock and confusion.
“Is that what you are doing, returning the favor? By throwing yourself at men?  You will only bring upon yourself disrespect and dishonor. What will people say, how will the society look at you? You are a woman for godsake, meant to be gentle, calm, loving and to stay in the bloody house!”

The fire started to bubble up in me, and the madness matching his.
“My God, you should be given a standing ovation for this display of stupidity, ignorance and self centeredness. I should stay in the bloody house. Was that not what I did? Was I not gentle, calm and loving? I was all those things and more but what did I get in return? Dishonor, disrespect and more; from you, your mother, your friends and the women you bring into this house. So excuse me if I don’t give a fat rats fanny what the society thinks of me, because there is nothing they will do to me that I haven’t gotten from you…in large doses.”
“SALAMAT.”
“Let me finish! Sometimes I wonder how some men actually see women, do you think we are slaves or a machine programmed to do as you please? No, we are flesh and blood with a heart that feels disappointment and can be broken. So I would not lose sleep over a society that will applaud a man for doing an act and then turn against a woman for doing the same thing. If it is okay for you to be with other women, then it is okay for me to be with other men. Disrespect, my dear husband, begets disrespect.”
“Is this because of Faiza? My religion allows me to have four wives.”
“Well congratulations, Mr. I-am-allowed-to-have-four-wives. Yes the religion said you can have four wives but it didn’t say you must.”

My husband started to laugh then and if I had had an axe with me I would have derived immense pleasure unhinging his jaw so that he can continue laughing permanently.
“It didn’t say you should do it with total disregard for the woman at home, it didn’t say you should do it while bringing shame upon the woman at home, it didn’t say you should insult, disrespect  and treat the woman at home like shit. It didn’t say you should commit indecency with them before they are legally your wives. If a woman was not important dear husband, if you could survive without a woman God wouldn’t have deemed it necessary to bring us into existence. I left my home to be with you, I gave you my body for you to do as you please with, I devout my time to pleasing you and at the end of the day what do I get, a husband that looks at me and laughs in my face because I exhibited jealousy for bringing another woman between us.”
“But going out with another man? You just can’t.”
“I can and I have.”
That night my home became like one of those homes where you hear raised voices at night. My husband discovering his mother outside, shivering like she was in Antarctica didn’t help matters. She wanted me thrown out that very night but I wouldn’t burg.
“My parents won’t have me again or have you forgotten that I disobeyed my parents in every way imaginable to be with your son? I am here to stay.”
It wasn’t until four in the morning was I able to get a little sleep cuddled with my son in his room.

6:30 in the morning my mother-in-laws voice, like a cock crow, woke me up. My phone started ringing not wanting to disturb my son’s sleep I got out of the room to answer it, it was my sister and she was at the door. I went past my mother-in-laws bedroom where I could still hear them.
“What are you doing here so early?” I asked as I closed the door behind her.
“To see the resultant effect of our little show yesterday”
Going past the room again I and my sister stopped to listen.
“I have not been bewitched nor am I a weakling. I just know the value of what I have. Salamat is not leaving my house, she is my wife and I have wronged her terribly, we have wronged her, admit it mother, you have not been making life easy for her. We pushed her into doing this. I will apologize to her, go home, no I am not sending you out of my house I love the both of you and you have shown me that you want to be an authority on your own, please go home where you have everything down to servants, they can’t be two queens on my ship.”

“Yomi!”
“Mama if you don’t comply I will leave her and you and nobody will ever see me again. This is Salamat for gods sake, the girl who stole from her parents to pay for my operation when I had that accident, the girl who kept sending me her school fees, without her I wouldn’t be what I am today, plus I don’t want God to send me to hell for treating my wife badly. My dad didn’t and I won’t. I forgive her.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Excellent.” My sister said
“I knew this would work, now can I have my new boyfriend back?”
I laughed.
“I will go and undo the spell.”
“What spell?” I asked.
“The spell I cast upon you to suppress that goody goody side of you.”

NEVER TAKE SOMEONE'S KIND AND GENTLE NATURE AS STUPIDITY.  CAUSE WHEN THEY WITHDRAW THOSE KIND NATURE YOU WOULD NOT LIKE THE OUTCOME,  ASK SALAMATU'S HUSBAND

Hope you enjoyed this piece and was able to learn one or two things. Till next week when we will bring you another wonderful story.
*Always remember you can preach a better gospel with the way you live your life than with your lips*
******story by Empressamin, Graduate of ABU Zaria*****

DIARY OF A FIRE SPITTING HOUSE WIFE

Salamatu is my name and as the name implies, I’m a very peaceful and gentle woman. I have a husband and a son. As a quiet and reserved woman people usually assume I tattooed a big welcome on my back and treat me like a doormat; from my husband to my child, from my mother-in-law who is presently with us to my friends and neighbors. No one stops to think before they talk I might as well be a lowly inconsequential servant for all they care.
Several times my twin sister would want to rip my head off out of frustrated anger. “I can’t always be there for you salamat. Your calm nature is now bordering on stupidity. That is why nobody will respect you. Too much of everything is not good.” “My husband loves me though.” I retorted, telling myself not to get angry, she was only speaking out of love for me. “Of course your husband would love you like that, why wouldn’t he? When you do anything he says, if that man should say ‘Salamat move that mountain to my back yard, you will find a way of doing it with a smile on your face.” “Haba Sadiya.” “How is that any different from when he brought that slut to your home and told you to spend the night in the living room while she used the bed…with him on the same bed.” “He said she was a new revert and her parents had abandoned her. She had nowhere to go.”
“So you left your matrimonial bed and husband for her? Knowing you, you probably told yourself that he wasn’t doing anything but hold her hands so she wouldn’t have a bad dream.” Well that wasn’t exactly what I kept telling myself but it was close.
“You are sounding like it is bad to be good.” “It is bad to be THIS GOOD. This one is your ticket to hell on earth even God Himself will frown upon you, you could easily be the woman who went to hell for outright stupidity.” That is my sister for you. Sometimes when she speaks with such vehemence, I literally feel the sharpness of her words piercing my skin.
But she was right—as always. I am too considerate for my own good. Friends come to me, for instance, to ‘borrow’ money as if I was an ATM and never bother returning it. They know I can’t meet them for it even if I am in dire need of the money. And yet for the life of me, I can’t seem to become the person my sister wants me to be. I want to—I really do. I just don’t know how to. I don’t know how to say no and if someone is rude to me, I return the favor with a smile—they are probably having a bad day—is what I will tell myself. I am worse at confrontations; I simply melt into a puddle of tears. At night I go to sleep a tired, angry and cheated woman. This continued for years until one fateful morning…

When I returned to life that morning after a long and deep sleep, my eyes weren’t even drowsy from the sleep as was normal. I was lying on my back under the warmth of my thick blanket when my eyes snapped open.  I was not conscious of anything but the anger that slipped into me like the harmattan cold. It had my breath coming fast, my brows drawn together and my eyes blazing with fire! My husband was my first victim—I didn’t like the way he was snoring. I threw back the covers, matched to the bathroom and came back with a bowl of cold water—it was 190celsius outside and my husband is prone to pneumonia.
When the water slapped into his gigantic head, he squealed and dropped off the bed like an epileptic patient. While he sputtered and looked around him in confusion, I just stood there studying him.
“Salamatu!”
He usually calls me honey. This probably wasn’t the time for endearments. “Salamatu, did you just pour cold water on me?” He sputtered out.
“Yes you were snoring like a pig. Consider the fact that you are not the only one using the bed.” With that I left the room leaving him with his mouth hanging open. In my son’s room, I woke him up to prepare him for school. I could see he was already up but he wanted to go through our morning routine where he will kick and punch at me while yelling. “Leave me alone I don’t want to go to school.” I was silent as I pulled down his P.J shorts. When he saw that I was getting my way without the usual pet names and promises, he proceeded to his favorite part…which was calling me names. “Stupid Mummy, Stupid Mummy!” he kept yelling, bouncing on the bed. I caught him, slammed him face down on the bed, and proceeded to give him three hot spanks. He brushed, bathed and wore his uniform in record silence. I went past my mother-in-law on my way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast; she was coming out of her room. “Honey, why are my clothes not yet pressed? You know I am going to the office today.” My husband demanded coming into the kitchen. I took six eggs and cracked them into a bowl and began to whisk. “There is iron in the laundry room, hurry before the power goes out.” “What does that mean?” he asked looking like I had spoken in German. “Are you implying that I should press my clothes myself? What happened to you doing them before we got out of bed? What is wrong with you this morning?!”
I poured the eggs in the pan and started frying it. “Salamatu take these clothes and have them ironed this minute!”
Calm as still water.
“My dear, it’s like you don’t want to go to work today.”
Just then my mother in-law joined us in the kitchen.
“My daughter, have you seen me this morning?”
“Why Mama Yes I have, were you looking for yourself?” I went to the store for bread and came back to find them watching me.
“Have you greeted me today?” My mother in-law gritted out.
“Good morning Mama.”
Her brows shot up, I am guessing because I didn’t proceed to kneel before her for a whole minute so she could finally pat me on the head and say I could stand up.
“Breakfast will be served in five minutes.”

At the dining, three pairs of eyes followed my every movement as I served breakfast. Especially my husband who was forced to wear his clothes rumpled because the power had gone out before he could get to the laundry room.
“What is this Salamtu?”
“Why food of course.”
“You know I prefer pancakes for breakfast, Junior takes waffles and Mama is Fufu and Ewedu soup.”
“I don’t have time for all that this morning. Toasted bread and scrambled eggs for breakfast has never killed anybody in history and it won’t start with you guys.”
I then turned to my mother in-law who looked like she had swallowed a bug.
“Mama eat, you will enjoy it.”
When I turned to my son and he saw the look on my face he immediately picked up his fork and wolfed down his breakfast.
“Yomi you are not saying anything, how can you keep quiet when your mother is being starved in her own son’s house.” She cried to her son.
“Salamatu…” he began
“Mama God forbid that you starve in your son’s house, it’s a good thing you are a woman, enter the kitchen, I am going to start cleaning the house.”

Three hours later I was sweeping the compound when the power was restored so I went into the house to put my phone on charge, by the time I came back out Mr. Umoru was standing in the compound looking around him with a sneer on his face, when he saw me he looked down his nose at me.
“Salamatu how are you this morning?” he asked, his face a perfect combination of a fake smile and a sneer.
“I am fine Sir.”
He made a show of stepping over the broom I was using while raising his trousers as if the dried leaves and nylon about will stain him.
“Is you husband at home?”
He knew my husband was never home at this time of the day. I told him no.
“Ok I was just passing by and said let me check on him and see how his home was fairing.”
Of course
He made to leave, paused and turned to look at me again.
I wasn’t surprised. It was his signature move.
“Let me advice you Salamatu” he began wearing condescension like a cloak.
“Your husband is a well respected doctor in this community, imagine if he was the one that walked in now with important colleagues…the embarrassment he would experience.”
I studied my surroundings as he droned on, the anger sipping into my blood stream. This is the second time I am sweeping the compound this morning, all thanks to mama and her melon peels and the Forest Flame shedding its flowers every minute, the place definitely isn’t as bad as he is portraying it to be. I turned my attention back to him.
“This is why men seek for other wives…” he was saying. I simply studied him. When people were evolving from Homo Erectus to Homo Sapiens he was probably too busy meddling to have noticed. Hence his unmistakable resemblance to apes, complete with the furs, the flat nose and the yellow teeth. The fact that he was also fat and black didn’t help his condition at all. “You stay home all day doing nothing while he works and brings home money, and yet…” he smiled probably thinking that would remove the sting from his words, but all I saw was king Kong spreading its lips.
“You are a good woman and I like you, that is why I choose to advice you every ones in a while. A woman should keep the home…”
I had had enough.
I bent down, picked up my broom and continued sweeping from where he was standing. He had to jump away, his stomach leading the way.
“Salamatu what has gotten into you, didn’t you see me standing there?”
I straightened.
“How can I miss you?” I asked him, my gaze brushing down his size.
“It’s just that I was eager to put your advice to use, we don’t want my husband walking through that gate with his important colleagues and being embarrassed now do we?” I continued sweeping towards his legs and his tummy dragged the rest of him toward the gate.
“What is wrong with this girl today? Do you know that I am old enough to give birth to you?”
I stopped again.
“Mr. Umoru, you are not old enough to give birth to me but you are old enough to give birth to wayward children.”
His tiny round eyes bulged out.
“Who do you think your daughter is pregnant for? No, do you even know your daughter is pregnant? Everybody in this community knows it except you. How will you know? When you hop from one compound to another at every opportunity, dishing them unwanted ‘advice’. Well here is one for you; your house is on fire—what with your wives sleeping with anything that walks in pantaloons—while your children probably do it with each other. You will agree with me that your home needs the services of a fire department. Stop taking Panadol for other people’s headaches and start taking retroviral drugs for yourself, I won’t be surprised if you are HIV positive.” By the time I was done with him, he was a hospital case.

12:30 in the afternoon I left the house to get my son from school. I was walking down my street, towards the main road, when I passed by Ijeoma’s house and overhead her talking to someone on the other side of the gate.
“Please manage this ₦5000, when I get the remaining money by next week I will send it to you.” Eh?! She was giving somebody 5000 naira when she hasn’t given me the 3000 naira she has being owing me for the past one year?
I pushed open the gate and they jumped in fright at the sudden movement.
“Ha ah! Salamatu is someone after you?” she asked looking over my shoulders.
I snatched the money from her and turned back, she grabbed my arm.
“Are you possessed? That is my money.” The other woman that was to receive the money could only gape at me.
“Did you say your money?” I asked Ijeoma.
“Where is the money you borrowed from me since last year February?”
The woman had to think before she knew what I was talking about.
“Haba! Salamatu, you surprise me. Things are not done like that na. Bring this one first, I said I will give you your money and I will.”
“No need, you have already given me the money.” I removed two thousand naira from the money and offered it to her. When she saw that I was being serious, she started to panic and stepped away from my outstretched hand, refusing to collect the money.
“Nneka I have given you your money.” She said to the other woman.
Nneka turned to me.
“That is my money.”
“Are you stupid? The money did not exchange hands, I took it from her not you.”
With that I threw the excess money on the floor and left, leaving the two women arguing.

5:30 that evening, I was in the kitchen making soup when my mother in-law joined me. She stared at the parboiled meat I left to drain in the basket and released an ear splitting hiss, she then grabbed a knife and took the basket.
“Wasting the hard earned money my son is making, look at how big these meats are.”
I waited until she sliced the first piece of meat before snatching the basket from her and emptied its content into the pot on the stove. I then turned back and collected the knife from her.
“You will tell me today whether this is my husband’s house or your husband’s house…you old little witch. After cutting this meat into the size of a chick’s brain and my husband starts to complain you will be quiet, so it then looks like I am being stingy with the money he gives me for food.”
I slammed down the knife on the counter.
“This is my husband’s house please, if I want to eat meat the size of Kilimanjaro, I will. When you were a young bride was I there hovering over you like the witches of Oz? No. So please allow me to drink water and drop cup in my house.”
I had never seen a person age right in front of my eyes, but by the time I was done she looked 150 instead of her 71 years. She creaked to her room, too apoplectic to have uttered a word.
For the next one month everybody walked on egg shells around me. It was like a tyrant had descended upon the house. The only person glowing with joy around me was my twin sister.
“That’s what I’m talking about sis!”
And this was after I told her, her best friend looked like a baby orangutan.
Then came the threats of a second wife
“If you don’t marry another woman to curb that woman’s stubbornness I will curse you till I die.”
I overheard her saying to my husband, and not for the first time I wondered why she was still alive. The Angel of death just kept missing her. I will ensure I add her name and our address the next time I am praying for her............to be continued Next Week Wednesday
*******Story By Empressamin, Graduate of ABU Zaria****************

Power of the Mind

The Taxi driver showed me a big black welt on his neck. It ran around his neck. Blueish black, Swollen. He told me that in October he had gone to a real estate agency on Allen Avenue to pay for six plots of land in Lekki EPZ zone. Twenty four million plus naira inclusive of all charges. It was the balance of the money he had saved during three years stay in Germany and had brought back with him. He had imported five cars from Germany into Nigeria. He gave his parents one. His wife the other. Sold two. And was driving one. 

He had paid for two years rent for his house in Surulere and furnished it. Bought a piece of land in his village in the East which he was still developing. And hurriedly done the traditional and white wedding to his Igbo bride who had waited for him during his stay in Germany. The purchasing of the land at the Lekki EPZ zone was a long term investment for him. While in Germany he had got into a partnership with a manufacturing company and was going to build a factory on the land for the fabrication and assemblage of solar power equipments using their propietary technology. He had inspected the land. Met with the Baale and the Omo-oniles. Got the C of O. Took it to the local government and the land registration offices. and their authenticity was confirmed. Then he had in the first week of last month he had paid the money into the accounts of the real estate company and promptly on the advise of his wife, he had mobilised builders and gone to the land to fence it in order to ward away trespassers. 

At the site as they began work, some of the Omo- Oniles who he had never seen had accosted them and an argument had ensued when they told them that the plots of land belonged to three other individuals collectively. He protested and marched with them to the Baale to make his case. On getting there, the Baale he saw was different from the Baale he had seen the first time he visited the palace. Another bout of arguments that took hours, during which the other owners of the land were summoned. They showed him their C of Os.  Not believing the authenticity of their documents they all went with him to the local government and land registration offices where he once again met different people from the ones he had met when he first came there. 

The verdict. His documents were fake. Theirs were genuine. Beside himself in shock, he had driven to the real estate agent office on Allen Avenue. It was closed. The agency had packed up and left. The guards at the bank next to the building told him that they had moved out at night. The Taxi driver said that as he heard the words from the guards, he actually felt a dark cloud envelope him and a deep sadness seize him. He had never felt such sadness before. Never felt such sense of hopelessness. He called the real estate agent. It rang unaswered thrice. And then it was switched off. He tried repeatedly and got the same, he felt the grip of sorrow tighten around him. And it was in its grip he had driven home that afternoon, his heart drumming in his ears. The house was empty since his wife was at work. He sat in the living room and stared at the television which was not turned on.

 All he could see was himself working so hard in Germany to save the money he had just lost. The questions rained on him. How would he complete the house in the village? How would he raise the money for the factory? What will he tell his business partners in Germany who had already advanced him a credit facility and were sending him a shipment of the equipments he will need to set up the factory? What will he tell his Uncle who had collected a high interest loan on his behalf from his bank to finance the building of the factory itself? How would he take care of his new wife? How would he take care of his aged parents? He said the more he thought the more he couldn't think. And all he heard clearly and distinctly as though someone was talking to him were the words; "There is no hope. No need to stress yourself again. End it all. Kill yourself. End your suffering. God understands. God knows you have tried.  It is easier to die than live through this suffering. 

There is no way you can raise that money again.  You see you don't even have the complete loan itself even if you return it. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill yourself." He did not know when he took his belt, made a loop, tie the end without the buckle on the metal railing of the staircase that led to the upstairs bedroom of the duplex in which he lived. Pull up one of the dining room chairs close to the staircase, climb on it, put the loop around his neck. He said a short prayer and begged God to forgive him and receive his soul. Then he kicked the chair out from underneath his feet and his weight dropped making the loop tighten around his neck. The suddenness shocked him. And even without thinking he had his hands grabbing for the tight belt around his neck. He tried to breathe. With every draw of air the belt squeezed tighter. His throat and his nostrils were on fire. There was a ringing in his ear which grew louder with every passing second. He felt his lungs catch fire and his windpipe begin to break. His vision began to blur as darkness rushed towards him. But he didn't see his life flash back as he had thought he would based on the stories he had heard. Instead he felt an undescribable urge to survive. 

To fight for his life. He tried to grab hold of the railing behind him so that he could pull himself up and his feet could find a footing on the staircase but his hands couldn't find anything as it flaying around in confusion and alarm. It was then he felt the saliva pulling in his mouth. It was like a river. It was rushing. His strength was failing him. He could feel his mind telling his body to fight but he could feel the power fade out of his body and his hands and feet sagging towards the ground. And as the darkness rushed over him, and he felt a terrible coldness seize him, the last conscious thought he had was that he had forgotten to write a note to his wife. When he opened his eyes, later that day, the first thing he saw was the white ceiling of the clinic and the first thing he felt was the sweat on his face. 

For a moment he was disoriented and couldn't remember who he was, where he was or why he was there. Then he heard voices. A lot of voices. And in that din, he heard the voice of his wife. Shrill with fear as she asked a question.  "God please o! You saved me from being a widow, don't punish me now with a husband in coma. Help your daughter in the name of your son Jesus!" His wive's voice had a sing song to it when she prayed which usually made him laugh. It was as though she was singing while laughing and jumping up and down on the same spot. "We are lucky the belt broke in time for him to start breathing on his own accord,if not…It was then he called out her name. And the hospital room exploded in joy. 

The week that followed was tough. His wife after her joy had subsided was furious at him. She accused him of not loving her at all. His parents and his younger sister journeyed down from the East and joined in the angry outburst. How could There will be no one to take care of them? He didn't even bother to leave behind a male child. It rained down on him like a storm. And all he could say was a remorseful sorry. But it was the doctor who intervened and urged them to sheath their swords, before he told them that the real estate agent could be caught. He knew someone at Lion building in Lagos Island who had experience with matters like that and who was an expert in recovering stolen funds. His parents insisted that the doctor give him time to heal before anyone went in search of the real estate agent, but when they heard the amount of money involved they changed their tune. So the contact was called. He offered to help but needed a mobilisation of N250,000. 

It was his wife who offered to bring the money. Like her husband she was a saver too. The money was given to the contact, who then requested for the n the number of the real estate agent and the account number the money was paid into and  it was given.Meanwhile the bank the 3money was paid into was contacted. It was ascertained that the money was still in the account. A police order for a hold on the money was forwarded to bank. The bank complied. The girls were interrogated. They got the information needed,including the manager’s address.They arrived at his house at Magodo 5.30 a.m in  the morning. They bursted the doors and met him sleeping in bed with a girlfriend. Both naked.  

They were  arrested. And by noon of the same day, the money was transferred back to the account.the Taxi driver. He gave the contact an extra N500,000 in gratitude for christmas and another N500,000 which he had requested for his contacts at the banks and the telecom companies. It had taken the contact four days to recover the funds. And the Taxify driver had been discharged a fifteen days after his admission when his lungs, throat and his right sprained ankle had sufficiently healed. The Taxi driver looked over at me as I sat quietly listening to his story. "You never know the value of life until you nearly lose it. 

 Pray you never experience something that can break your spirit, because this your mind, you can never trust it. It can lie to you just like that and just like that it can save you. It can confuse you and it can make things so clear to you, you will be amazed. So you have to be careful when you choose to listen to it.  Just pray that you never get to that point where you are at the mercy of your mind. Because what it can make you do, hmmmm..." And he fell silent. We drove on. After a while I asked him. "Are you still going to buy another land for the factory for the Solar project?" "Me?" He laughed for a while before he continued. What do I need all that stress for? I have told my uncle to return the loan.

 I paid back the part I gave him as his cut. Paid the interest that had already accumulated. I told the Germans thank you very much but I am not interested anymore. I paid back the shipping charges and penalties for breaching the contract. I still have like a couple of millions in my account. I am waiting for my wife to get her papers and we are taking off back to germany. We get there. She gets a job, I get a job. We make enough to raise a family, travel on holidays, live life. Man, all these wanting to build empires and acquire money you can't spend cos its too much doesn't mean anything. If you experience the loneliness of death you will understand what I am saying. Vanity upon vanity man, all is vanity.Just be happy, show love, experience the world, earn just enough to make you comfortable, be contented and keep your mind in check." Then he laughed again.  I tell you. 

The devil is right there in you. He is your mind. If you are looking for salvation, then conquer your mind.  I was looking at him silently,There was a transcendental peace on his face as he kept shaking his head and laughing with such pure happiness, it was evident that to him, he had found out the greatest secret in existence. I couldn't help but smile with him.
*******Oke Janet 200level Law, OAU**********

Hope you enjoyed the story and was able to learn something. Don't forget to drop your comments and suggestions, they will be hight appreciated. See you next week. 

YOUTHFUL AIM

Umbilical Branch; Saving the youth.

There were five of us who grew up in the same neighborhood people said our births were divinely orchestrated for love we shared love like children from the same umbilical branch. We shared our thoughts and every dream. Our families weren't too wealthy either. We would most times go help our mothers trade in the market. To enable them make great sales. We saw that part, yes that part of life where the desire to meet every days struggle was our aim. I prayed that I would be a great lawyer to help our neighborhood The other girls had their yet unfulfilled dreams and aspirations. Just within a little span of years, Grace's aunt came down from the west with the aim of training Grace at the school they had there. We cried the sisterly cries and gave her our pieces of advice, then she left for greener pastures.

For the problems indigent living cost us, we have no means to contact Grace. Amara met a foolish old man who lives three blocks. Well, there is no news other than the fact that the old man got her pregnant from here usual hawking exercises. Did I say the man was blind in one eye? Well, he was actually a one eyed foolish old man who knew nothing but  ladies skirt's. I don't blame him much; since Amara had chosen to open  her legs for his seed, who then was I to tell her to abate the already produced Fruit. That was just how Amara got entwined maritally to the old one eyed.

On one of the occasions, Chioma and myself had gone to hawk oranges that were peeled by our mothers. We got to a lone street. Distracted by Chioma's  wonderful well crafted gist, we lost every bit of caution. We paid no attention to the lion's territory which we had just walked into. We were both called into their house to render sales. Within seconds, the men grabbed us into the large house. Our trays of oranges had fallen from our heads with our oranges scattered all over the place. My eyes were tied. I was in a dark room. I saw nothing. Perceived nothing. I only heard sounds of tears which belonged to Chioma. Her tears were flowing from her dry throat. Then I started to scream; asking them to leave her alone and stop hurting her. I could not tell what brought the tears but I felt something evil had befallen

us. Who would know we came her only to hawk our lives. Just then I heard his voice saying

"It's done", " bring out the other one". Cold chills ran down my spine. My heart raced skipping beats. My young body shivered. I could hear my own fearful breathes. My fingers trembled.

I touched my legs only to discover they were tied together with a strong rope. Cold from abyss had befallen me. Fear!!! Hot tears kept rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably. Am I doomed? The door handle creaked. The hinges gave way. The door knob slowly turned without making any sound. Then I heard him say come out quickly. Run for your life. Do not look back. Never come back. The spirit of your friend beckoned to me to rescue you. Where is Chioma? I asked, she is the new guest in our land. The land. Yes! Land of those forcefully .

I ran. I was lost. I was in a lone road. My race never stopped. I saw a young boy with a Barrow. I pleaded with him to carry me in it to the main road. Seeing my feet were bleeding. He aided me. I got to that junction of life and death. Then I ran like a wind in a chase. I got to the gate of my house. My mama saw me and rushed saying they have been searching for me for seven days. Tears rolled down my mama's cheeks. I saw Chioma's mother rush towards me asking after Chioma. My spirit left my body. She, Chioma was gone for life.

That day I saw them come into the street seeking for youths, the notion behind the search for the youths were far beyond my knowledge. Our sisterly world was broken with only Oge and myself hanging strongly unto the umbilical branch. Our time of mourning was finally over. It was just the two of us. The men approached us asking us various future-revealing questions. During the interviews conducted by the men who had come into our street, I was asked; “who would you want to become after now”? then answer came; I would want to become a lawyer, to fight for the streets rights, seek for the people who killed Chioma my friend and bring them to justice…I didn’t know how long I had sobbed until he said, we will help this one. The interview was over. The man who had interviewed me followed me home to meet with my parents that evening. I did not know what they had discussed. All I could fathom was the outcome for I was told to go and pack my belongings. I shared few good bye moments with my parents and then I left with him. Unfortunately, I couldn’t bid Oge farewell because there wasn’t time for that.

My lifes’ journey had officially started. I had been enrolled in this school. Everything was different and so new to me. But I was determined to attain my goals. My perspectives had changed. My training was not so smooth yet I learned even harder and better. I was awesome. My handler, Mr. Martins had me going. I was fast. I was sound. The world of academics was highly favourable to me. After my years of unstoppable training, I was called and enrolled into the countrys’ Bar Association. I was ready. Ready to face the odds of life.

I was back to the streets to find Oge but she's was no more. The story said Oge (the deceased) had accepted  the proposal of the leader  of the worst gang in the streets. After a deadly operation  that took the lives of the gang members, Oge herself  didn't  survive  the shots that came upon her  at the night of the blood gush.  I was alone again  but this time,  I swore to aid every youth in the streets. Many enrolled in different  disciplines  while the rest learnt different facets of trade.  The streets; no my streets were no longer known by the  terrible deeds the youths did. The upcoming  generation  are successors of us, our positivity  and our  workings. 

So I thought to myself, if Grace never left for greener pastures, if Amara never married  the one eyed old man, If Chioma and I never went hawking on that day she would  have still been alive, If I hadn't met with the interviewers, if I never studied  Law,  if Oge never got into that relationship that claimed her life, she would have still been alive. The  ifs  still counts but  the streets might never remember that I was one amongst the umbilical branch. The tree which  housed the umbilical branch has fallen. Struggle begets gain I must say. 

***Precious Eminent ***

Thank you for taking your time to read this piece, hope you enjoyed it and was able to learn something from it.  Don't forget to drop your comments and suggestions.  See you next week Wednesday. Have a lovely week.......

KIND

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was the perfect image of a President's daughter. The green dress she wore accentuated her curves and did nothing to spare any onlooker from the glory her body held. Yes... She was Sheila Moses. Only daughter to President Ota Moses. Her mother died when she was a baby but she had inherited her beautiful genes. She had the world at her feet and could ask for nothing more. Even as she descended the stairs. One small step at a time. She knew she had it all. 

The party was of course one of the weekly events that held once a week at the presidential villa for all the important guests of the federation and the cream of the crop of the country. Amongst them was Daniel Mensah only son of Alhaji Mensah. Owner of M and M conglomerate. He was wealthy by all standards and already was bethrothed to Sheila. " If only I had a choice" he thought to himself. This decision had been made before their birth and without their consent as the president and his father were childhood friends.. 

" who are you thinking about Daniel" Sheila at that moment came to sit beside him. She was jealous of his thoughts as they seemed more serious than he ever took her. She hoped it wasn't another girl though.

She would kill her for daring to steal into his thoughts.. Daniel oblivious to the murderous thoughts running through her mind snapped out of his thoughts " Oh Sheila, it's nice to see you. You look beautiful" even as he noticed how revealing the dress was and how it did nothing to make her decent. "it's all for your benefit darling, our wedding is next year and you know I want you to be happy" she replied in that high pitched voice he hated.  It sounded like a thousand bees buzzing in his ear.  

"Madam here are the drinks you requested " Sonia her personal maid said at that moment.  "How dare you intrude " next came the thunderous slap.  "how many times have I told you never to come close to Daniel and I whenever we are having a conversation" Sheila shrieked. The poor girl scampered away holding her cheek while tears streamed unobstructed down her cheeks. 

"How could you do that to the poor girl, why are you so mean?" Daniel queried. He often watched her harass the poor girl unnecessarily and thought it wrong. She just wouldn't stop. Obviously she was a spoilt brat. " You have no right to ask me that Daniel she's mine to do as I please. Now get out. You have overstayed your welcome."

 So you get the picture. Sheila a spoilt brat bethrothed to Daniel a disciplined man. Daniel had no peace as he always dreamed of a happy marriage and a happy life. It all continued this way until Sheila got sick. She was taken to the best hospital and it was discovered that she had cancer. It had affected her eyes and left her unable to see. 

Everyone mocked her. She had been rude and wicked to a lot of people and so didn't have any friends. Even her closest friends left her as they could not be associated with an handicap.  Only Sonia stayed by her side and helped her through her trying times. She learned humility the hard way. She learned that everyone was to be respected and helped. 

She had no way to atone for everything she had done in the past but she tried to make the present better. She discovered she was wrong in her approach to life and found out she enjoyed this new life of giving more than anything else. She visited orphans, helped widows and was kind to everyone.. Word spread that she had changed and she got goodwill messages from people all over the country. 

By mutual agreement she didn't get married to Daniel as she felt she didn't love him and wanted to find love unhindered. 

Daniel fell in love with Sonia her maid. And after much convincing of his father married her. 

You might have everything at your disposal and feel it's okay to make other people sad or use your power to trample upon people in lesser positions than you are as a lot of people do. It's not right and doesn't make anyone happy at all. Let's try this year to be kind to everyone.  And treat everyone you meet as you would love to be treated.. 

Sheila fell in love and married her doctor. She's currently the owner of so many non governmental organizations and spearheads a lot of projects to help the less privileged. 
.....By Ayegba Ene 

Thank you for taking your time to visit and read this piece,hope you found it interesting, motivating and educative.  Don't forget to drop your comments and suggestions. 

Everybody Talks

Ayo was a young man who by all inclination would be successful. At least, that was what people believed. He graduated from the university at the age of 19, served his country immediately after school and from then sought to get employed in one of the biggest companies in town. Everybody expected same. But everybody did not get to see what they looked forward to. For starters, Ayo did not immediately get a job. As a matter of fact, he was now three years out of school and still without a job, even as a 'bright' young man. This made everybody wonder; what could be wrong, are village people at it this time, eiya, oma se o oh.

Tade, another young man too was never seen as the bright one. He was always behind on stuff. Education was not one of his strong points, so he dropped out. He had to work as a carpenter. Luckily for him, his hands were blessed, as people really loved his work and made recommendations to people on his behalf. 'Ah, olowo ni Tade oh, omo wa niyen', everybody said. They all of a sudden accorded him respect because he had become successful even though he was not bright, did not finish basic education. Ayo still wandered about, looking for how to make a living for himself. In recent times, people called him a 'failure'. Everybody looked at him scornfully, sometimes with pity.

Somebody once said, fear those who are so fast with what they do. Fear for them. That is the story of Ayo. Even though everybody hauled his quickness as a child, he was still not looked at, even after his academic successes because of money. If Ayo took all that people said to his heart, he may have decided to steal, or maybe seek wealth by ritual means. I do not know if he did. That's not important. What is important is that we ignore the thoughts of people, their compliments, their scorn. Just ignore. Nobody is in competition with nobody, so we should not take things that people say,serious. You may be Ayo, you may be Tade. Whichever is the case,know who you are. Do not be fooled by the lovely words thrown at you by humans, because the people who praise you today may stone you tomorrow. You should endeavour to be less bothered about what people are saying as long as you are convinced that you on the right part.  Que Sera Sera.  What will be will be.  Make this your New Year Resolution.........By Ezeala Confidence 

Thank you for taking your time to read this. Don't forget to drop your comments and suggestions.  See you next time.