Few weeks back, I attended a function where the Commander of Area ‘G’ Mr. Sam Ojehume was lecturing some girls on rape.
Many of them hid their faces and giggled, while one asked if she could use any weapon to kill the attacker. What a naïve question! I mean, why would any rapist allow you access to a weapon? It dawned on me that they actually didn’t know or appreciate the magnitude of what rape is all about.
I don’t need to have experienced rape to know the emotional trauma and psychological problems that a victim later goes through in life. Believe me, rape is not an incident to gloss or giggle over as a victim.
When my friend Bola told me that three men had once raped her I didn’t believe her. Why? She had a smile on her pretty face. I also considered the fact that Bola has this incredible penchant for telling silly, meaningless lies.
If she tells you good morning, better check your timepiece, I bet you the time would be 4pm. If she says stop, dearest, turn Ben Johnson!
Several times when I interviewed girl-teenagers – who had been raped, I wonder about the horror and terror they must had gone through during the horrible nightmare of their body being forcefully invaded by someone they never wanted.
And there are times; I’ve also asked myself if some cases could actually be called rape. Imagine a young babe keeping quiet after being allegedly raped because the assailant gave her some money. I did a story once at Makinde area of Oshodi, Lagos. She was just a budding teen-ager. The two oranges on her chest were still premature by my judgment and calculation. Her brother had discovered some large sum of money with her. She couldn’t explain how she came to have such an amount in her possession.
The boy gave her the beating of her life. She finally admitted that it was one Baba in the compound that gave it to her after sex. They’ve been doing it for two years! The old man was dragged to the police on a charge of rape.
Please tell me dear folks, I’m a little bit confuse here, is that rape? Police call it rape but I see it as a case of consenting partners.
Abi no bi money for hand, back for ground be that?
Rape is sudden and terrifying. It could happen to children or adults. I prefer to call sexual attack on kids as defilement, not rape. Rape is forced sexual intercourse. When you talk of rape, people immediately have mental vision of a man, forcefully wrestling a babe to the ground to impale her.
What an erroneous belief! Men have also been known to be raped. In a well known institution of higher learning in Nigeria- please don’t ask which- I heard some babes, suspected to be cultists - yes O babes too are into cultism - (they call themselves black bra; red pant and the latest are those calling themselves G-strings babes, another group is called daughters of Jezebel. How a sensible babe, can declare herself, a daughter of Jezebel beats me) anyway, these babes raped the guy like there was no tomorrow.
They were angry with him for always strolling into the girls’ hostel, like he owns it, even when it was light out. On that fateful day, unknown hands had jumped him from behind and pulled a hound over him. He was dragged into a room filled with naked babes.
The deal started. Whether he enjoyed it or not, I can not tell…yes, I didn’t ask.
But one-on-one, do you think he enjoyed it? As a guy have you ever being raped? Was it enjoyable?
Mail or text me please, I’m dying to know! Our brother’s strength started ebbing. They were said to have given him milk, raw eggs and other stimulants. Julie doesn’t know what other stimulants.
He later fainted and was dumped outside. His friends found him and carried him to a Medicare centre.
It had also happened in a girl’s boarding school. Please don’t egg me on or I wouldn’t know when or where to stop.
Rape can occur in your neigbourhood, under different situations. The rapist does not care whether you are naked or wearing full-length gown like Mountain of Fire or Deeper Life church members. His goal is to have sex with you whether you wanted or not.
I don’t subscribe to the idea that it is because a girl is dressed provocatively that could make someone to rape her, rubbish! Though it had also been known to be a contributing factor. The rapist may be someone close to you. Rape by someone you know is more likely to happen than with a stranger. The bad thing about rape aside from the psychological problem that comes with the experience is sexually transmitted diseases such as HIV/AIDS. How many rapists ever bother with condoms? How are you sure the rapist is not on a misguided revenge- mission, spreading HIV? I read somewhere where an angry HIV carrier, went on the rampage, banging anything which had a hole, surrounding bushes and wears bra and skirt. The guy discovered he was HIV positive and blamed all the women folk. By the time he decided to confess, he had banged more than 100 women, without protection of any kind. He even wrote down their names in a small black book.
I once heard that a lady under the threat of a rapist knife calmly told him, “It’s either you use condom or kill me with that knife…”
I find the story hard to swallow. Do you know that when that guy whom you’re nuts about forces you to have sex with him, he has committed statutory rape? In a developed society, the guy-yeah, your hubby or lover-could land in jail for that!
Rape is a grievous offence against anybody and should be reported to the police immediately. Before the act can be qualified as rape, one needs to shout. This of course can be pretty difficult if the guy is welding a glittering knife over your defenseless head.
Just don’t make it too easy for him. When I say shout, I don’t mean, moaning and groaning, as you spread your thighs further for him to gain proper entrance into your juicy well as he buries his shaft into you.
I also heard that some ladies enjoy being raped. To them, the only way to achieve orgasm is when they are raped. Perverts I call them! Or could it be some chemical reaction, hormones, genes gone haywire?
An incident of rape once destroyed a happy home. I really don’t know whether I have the time to give you folks this gist…hum…did I hear someone say spill it Julie.
Okay! A couple was returning from Ibadan when a supposedly broken down car owner in distress flagged them down to assist him to Lagos. They stopped and the son of a bitch whipped out a gun.
The nearby bushes took on life as other robbers sneaked out from their hiding places. Not satisfied with dispossessing the couple of all their valuables, the robbers gave the couple the devil’s alternative.
I will come back to the story later. I guess the best way to avoid rape is to be wary of those you call friends. Even your best friend can plot to have you raped due to some misplaced grievance. Be careful also with strangers. Do not move in dark alleys. I remembered the day a young lady ran out from a cluster of bushes, not too far from Charity bus stop, under the pedestrian bridge in Oshodi.
She ran across our bus and narrowly escaped being knocked down. The full glare of the headlight caught the scared look on her face. She was as naked as the day she was born! She clutched a tattered remain of her dress in front of her boobs. I’m ashamed to say our driver didn’t stop to help and the passengers only discussed the incident as a normal occurrence. Rape can disrupt a nice relationship.
Rape could make a lady avoid sex with her spouse due to psychological trauma. Avoid taking alcohol especially at parties. It is no longer secret that some bad guys could sneak drugs into drinks meant for potential victims or babes that had been playing hard to get.
Always lock your doors. Once you are raped, God forbid, but just in case it happens, call or report to the police. I know that it is pretty difficult to open yourself to prying eyes and inquisitive tongue of a strange police officer, but it is the best step to take if you wish to nail the bastard.
Rape can make you loose the guy you love. Most guys walk out once they learn their babe had been raped. This is bad! This is probably when she needs you most. Leaving her may forever affect her. Assist her to overcome the shock. I doubt if any Nigerian babe would walk out on her guy because some group of ladies decided to rape him.
Do not bath or douche your vagina after the incident. Try as much as possible to preserve all physical evidences. After police, go for medical examination and treatment. I know you may feel dirty, confused and ashamed but you need your strength to be able to survive the trauma. Above all, remember that the rape was never your fault.
Back to our story in the bushes, on Lagos/Ibadan expressway. The wife was to choose to either witness her hubby being shot or subject herself to rape.
The couple cried. The wife finally gave in. She was raped under the watchful eyes of her hubby. At home, the man became cold. He refused to sleep with her, ate her food or has a sane discussion with her.
Worried, she called a family meeting. There she finally opened the secret of that terrible night. She calls it the ultimate sacrifice. I fervently agree!
The angry husband spat: 'It’s not the rape that is the problem…She actually enjoyed it! Shame on you! I saw you moaning and raising your hip…. You never acted that way with me! You always lie there like a log of wood'.
The wife’s response was even more shattering. “Oti o! I will not listen to this”, whereupon the peaces talk degenerated into a heated argument.
Pandemonium was let loose. The highly charged wife yelled, 'Is it my fault? Is it my fault they know how to satisfy a woman than you don’t? I tried not to enjoy it! God knows I tried…”
You could have heard a pin drop.
Article first published in 2005
Voice of the People
Underneath are ladies in need of husbands
I’m from Abia State, searching for God fearing and caring who is ready to settle down. Anybody calling should and must be above 35. Please if you’re not ready to settle down, don’t call this number. 07042908768
I’m from Eastern part of Nigeria. I need a serious minded man, who is ready to marry. He should be above 35 please. Please call: 08039232858
The sex hungry GO’s wife (2)
Apparently she had tried to have a talk with her husband over the issue, but the guy was too enveloped in his church and the needs of his members.
He forgot about the needs of his wife.
It’s annoying you know and wicked. You don’t want to ball your wife, yet she can’t possibly cheat. Yes! Let’s not forget, she’s the ‘mummy’ of the church.
And even if she’s not the mummy of the church, it’s pretty tough to see an African woman cheating on her husband.
Sick and tired of the situation, she went tattling to two male members of the church, hoping they would speak to her husband. These men are supposed to be elders in the church.
But instead, the story travelled like wildfire in the church, with it gathering dust, filths, fabrication and embellishment from different narrators.
I honestly didn’t know what she was thinking when she went washing her dirty linen to the church men; but needless to say, the gossip almost destroyed her marriage.
Yeah, she made a bad move, but I guess she was desperate.
Listen pastor, wherever you may be, you wife comes first! Yes, take that to the banks! If you can’t love and cherish the woman whom you too a vow with, how on earth can cherish and worship God whom you can’t see?
You don’t have the moral right to stand at the podium, preaching to married couple on how to have a happy marriage when your own home is on fire. Abeg comot the speck wey dey your eyes jare!
If I’m not mistaken, I believe there’s somewhere in the holy book where it states that we should remove the speck in our eyes before removing the one in the eyes of another.
As a man of God, it behoves you to love, worship and treat your wife well. And taking care of your wife and treating her well, encompasses balling her.
Don’t take her for granted.
When last did you noticed the clothes she had on or the type of hairstyle she did?
When last did you pay her attention or complimented her? An average woman enjoys attention from her man. Treating your wife well as a man of God, is not a privilege, it’s a right! Personally, it’s a damn sin to marry a woman without balling her always. Just imagine her core, rusting….not fair!
He forgot about the needs of his wife.
It’s annoying you know and wicked. You don’t want to ball your wife, yet she can’t possibly cheat. Yes! Let’s not forget, she’s the ‘mummy’ of the church.
And even if she’s not the mummy of the church, it’s pretty tough to see an African woman cheating on her husband.
Sick and tired of the situation, she went tattling to two male members of the church, hoping they would speak to her husband. These men are supposed to be elders in the church.
But instead, the story travelled like wildfire in the church, with it gathering dust, filths, fabrication and embellishment from different narrators.
I honestly didn’t know what she was thinking when she went washing her dirty linen to the church men; but needless to say, the gossip almost destroyed her marriage.
Yeah, she made a bad move, but I guess she was desperate.
Listen pastor, wherever you may be, you wife comes first! Yes, take that to the banks! If you can’t love and cherish the woman whom you too a vow with, how on earth can cherish and worship God whom you can’t see?
You don’t have the moral right to stand at the podium, preaching to married couple on how to have a happy marriage when your own home is on fire. Abeg comot the speck wey dey your eyes jare!
If I’m not mistaken, I believe there’s somewhere in the holy book where it states that we should remove the speck in our eyes before removing the one in the eyes of another.
As a man of God, it behoves you to love, worship and treat your wife well. And taking care of your wife and treating her well, encompasses balling her.
Don’t take her for granted.
When last did you noticed the clothes she had on or the type of hairstyle she did?
When last did you pay her attention or complimented her? An average woman enjoys attention from her man. Treating your wife well as a man of God, is not a privilege, it’s a right! Personally, it’s a damn sin to marry a woman without balling her always. Just imagine her core, rusting….not fair!
The sex hungry GO’s wife (1)
To be the wife of a pastor or General Overseer of a church is not a tea party.
This is why a babe must give serious thought before walking down the aisle and saying, ‘I do,’ with a holy man.
These men of God are so damn busy that they hardly have time to ball their wives.
What is marriage if there’s no sex? Beats me!
It’s worse if the church is a new one and the pastor is trying all he could to ensure it grows and stabilises.
This sort of pastor may probably have one or two assistant pastors, but he’ll also be scared shitless to leave them in charge of too many things.
Why? Silly question; the money of course!
These days, to cajole congregation into coughing up tithes and offering is not easy. The economy is getting harsher and chewing our arses harder.
This is why in churches, you’ll hear pastors calling for all sorts of donation, beginning from N10,000 down to N1000. Likes it’s a sort of auction. Naturally, it depends on the church.
Some churches start their call from N1million; yes, our God is not a poor God. Nobody cares where the money comes from.
After shouting himself hoarse, I don’t think he would fancy his assistant pastors helping themselves to some of the money.
This is what is obtainable in most churches these days. Frauds and embezzlements.
Anyway, back to my discussion; yes, this pastor is determined to ensure his church grows, believe me, balling his wife, not matter how pretty she is, will be last thing on his mind.
He’ll spend hours, counselling his members, while his home, which needs counselling more, suffers. The wife gets more lonely and may become withdrawn or snappish.
The things on his mind would be planning of different church programmes. These programmes are part of efforts to raise money.
There are severally wives of pastors going through this phase. Poor sex hungry, lonely women. Their husbands are busy preaching fire and brimstones, while their sex starved wives are busy masturbating. Some of them shrivel emotionally and begin to take out their anger on members. Snapping at every imagined slight or problems. Yes, sexual frustration can do that to you.
Hello pastors, you need to start balling your wives every time. Once a week, once a month is not cool. Even the once, you pour your holy water faster than a faulty tap and starts snoring; unaware that your woman hasn’t reached the pearly gate of orgasm.
You plunge her into further sexual hunger, leaving her clitoris fretting. To you, missionary styles is the next best thing since the discovery of slice bread.
Wake up bro, ball your wife and seek out innovative sex positions. I can help you!
I’m strolling through this lane because I heard a woman crying bitterly that her husband, a GO, hardly ever makes love to her.
The guy leaves home early and comes back late. Once he comes home, he eats and falls into the bed, instantly asleep. He’s not playing possum. The guy is beat.
And the wife happened to be a fair complexioned beauty. She’s not just pretty, she’s also very young.
You guys know how the sexual adrenalin and hunger of the younger generation used to roar, seeking for satisfaction. I know. I’ve been there. I don’t know if I’m still there…Ha! Ha! Ha!
I really don’t know, but do you guys think the pastor ought to have put his wife first before the church? Would it be like putting his wife before God?
There are some pecks that come with being the ‘mummy’ of the church anyway. As the wife of the GO, you’re treated like a goddess.
But hell, who wants to be a goddess when the core is begging for a shaft to be buried inside it? Even goddesses need sex!
I never knew sex was so freaky important until I saw that babe bawling her eyes out. Just messing with you guys; I know it’s important.
Don’t get me wrong; it’s not as if I didn’t know the power and influence of sex in our lives or relationship, but to be bawling over lack of it…?
I guess the most painful aspect of the whole set up was the fact that the pretty lady was desperate for a child.
The marriage had not been blessed with a child. This is part of what pains her. How on earth can they make a baby, when the special water irrigation that supposed to water her fallow land, is never there? Each time the land gathers grasses, she weeds them in expectation. Yes, most guys don’t like bushes in case they want to go down on their babes. But the pastor didn’t notice.
This is why a babe must give serious thought before walking down the aisle and saying, ‘I do,’ with a holy man.
These men of God are so damn busy that they hardly have time to ball their wives.
What is marriage if there’s no sex? Beats me!
It’s worse if the church is a new one and the pastor is trying all he could to ensure it grows and stabilises.
This sort of pastor may probably have one or two assistant pastors, but he’ll also be scared shitless to leave them in charge of too many things.
Why? Silly question; the money of course!
These days, to cajole congregation into coughing up tithes and offering is not easy. The economy is getting harsher and chewing our arses harder.
This is why in churches, you’ll hear pastors calling for all sorts of donation, beginning from N10,000 down to N1000. Likes it’s a sort of auction. Naturally, it depends on the church.
Some churches start their call from N1million; yes, our God is not a poor God. Nobody cares where the money comes from.
After shouting himself hoarse, I don’t think he would fancy his assistant pastors helping themselves to some of the money.
This is what is obtainable in most churches these days. Frauds and embezzlements.
Anyway, back to my discussion; yes, this pastor is determined to ensure his church grows, believe me, balling his wife, not matter how pretty she is, will be last thing on his mind.
He’ll spend hours, counselling his members, while his home, which needs counselling more, suffers. The wife gets more lonely and may become withdrawn or snappish.
The things on his mind would be planning of different church programmes. These programmes are part of efforts to raise money.
There are severally wives of pastors going through this phase. Poor sex hungry, lonely women. Their husbands are busy preaching fire and brimstones, while their sex starved wives are busy masturbating. Some of them shrivel emotionally and begin to take out their anger on members. Snapping at every imagined slight or problems. Yes, sexual frustration can do that to you.
Hello pastors, you need to start balling your wives every time. Once a week, once a month is not cool. Even the once, you pour your holy water faster than a faulty tap and starts snoring; unaware that your woman hasn’t reached the pearly gate of orgasm.
You plunge her into further sexual hunger, leaving her clitoris fretting. To you, missionary styles is the next best thing since the discovery of slice bread.
Wake up bro, ball your wife and seek out innovative sex positions. I can help you!
I’m strolling through this lane because I heard a woman crying bitterly that her husband, a GO, hardly ever makes love to her.
The guy leaves home early and comes back late. Once he comes home, he eats and falls into the bed, instantly asleep. He’s not playing possum. The guy is beat.
And the wife happened to be a fair complexioned beauty. She’s not just pretty, she’s also very young.
You guys know how the sexual adrenalin and hunger of the younger generation used to roar, seeking for satisfaction. I know. I’ve been there. I don’t know if I’m still there…Ha! Ha! Ha!
I really don’t know, but do you guys think the pastor ought to have put his wife first before the church? Would it be like putting his wife before God?
There are some pecks that come with being the ‘mummy’ of the church anyway. As the wife of the GO, you’re treated like a goddess.
But hell, who wants to be a goddess when the core is begging for a shaft to be buried inside it? Even goddesses need sex!
I never knew sex was so freaky important until I saw that babe bawling her eyes out. Just messing with you guys; I know it’s important.
Don’t get me wrong; it’s not as if I didn’t know the power and influence of sex in our lives or relationship, but to be bawling over lack of it…?
I guess the most painful aspect of the whole set up was the fact that the pretty lady was desperate for a child.
The marriage had not been blessed with a child. This is part of what pains her. How on earth can they make a baby, when the special water irrigation that supposed to water her fallow land, is never there? Each time the land gathers grasses, she weeds them in expectation. Yes, most guys don’t like bushes in case they want to go down on their babes. But the pastor didn’t notice.
What if IG Abubakar is getting married?
I just don’t get it.
What is the big deal if the Inspector General of Police, Mohammed Abubakar is getting married?
If you had heard the buzz the news generated in my office, you had think a swarm of locust was about to wage war on mankind.
For crying out loud, Abubakar is foremost a guy before a policeman.
He’s just like the guy next door.
He has blood flowing in his veins. Just like any other guy, when he’s sexually excited, everything that is supposed to become engorged and straining will definitely do, except he has a problem.
Believe me, I don’t think he has!
And if you’re angry enough to tear off his proud, blue and black uniform and check out his vital statistics, you had first discover that just like any other guy, he has two lines men and one referee dangling between his thighs.
Now that we’ve established that he’s a guy, why can’t he possibly be allowed to act like any other man?
And some people even had the gut to say women gossip! It’s a lie. I have discovered that men gossip more than women.
Since the Abubakar love bug story broke, its only men I heard running stupid commentary and harping on it.
Listen to some of their silly uptake:
“Please remind me, when the IG wife did died that he’s now set to remarry? Or has he being having affair with this lady while his poor wife had been sick?”
And I had asked the busy body folk, “Wetin concern you! Why are you taking paracetamol over another’s guy’s headache?”
And another uptake:
“I heard the IG is getting married in September. Can you believe that? With all the Boko Haram wahala, he still has time for banging. If he sets to marry in the middle of the entire crisis, it means, all these time, he has been banging that babe.”
Sincerely, I pity people like the IG. People who are always in the limelight.
What ordinary you or I would have done and got away with, is not always the same with them.
If they cough, sneeze or fart, people simply become interested.
Once you’re in the limelight, everything you or doesn’t do, will always warrant discuss, analysis and dissertation.
If Abubakar had been cheating on his wife, before his death, it’s no biggy for someone like him. So mind your business!
If Abubakar doesn’t chase women, women will chase him.
I can bet you, that there’re hundred and one woman, in the queue, right now, waiting to give him the ‘Monica Lewinsky treatment.’
Yes O! To give him blowjob right there in his office. They are ready to crawl under his giant mahogany desk, unzip his well starched black trouser and buried their lusty, warm tongue over his manhood.
If you know the IG one-on-one, ask him the number of women who had offered him such lovely lip services. If he’s truthful, he’ll tell you that they are many.
And he gets these lips and ‘peg in the hole’ services, not just because he’s good looking, but majorly due to the power that comes with his office and position.
Many women love power. They want to move with those in the corridors of power and if giving him a little, tiny blowjob is the beginning to garner that power and share in it, so be it!
Abubakar is receiving a lot of attention right now because he’s probably one of the ever heard IG, who wants to get married while still in office.
I don’t even want to start talking about the bountiful goodies which such union will bring his way, especially since he’s still in office.
After all, Marvellous Akpoyibo did the same when he was the Commissioner of Police, Lagos State. Akpoyibo even taxed his Divisional Police Officers. At the end of the day, Akpos did not spend a dim in his daughter’s wedding. Well wishers and forced well wishers, sort of did the wedding for him.
It was the DPO’s who spilled the bean to us.
So tell me, if you’re in the position of IG or Akpoyibo, wouldn’t you do the same? It’s only a foolish man who will leave office before embarking on something.
I mean, after you leave office, you’re absolutely nothing! A policeman who retired told me that after his retirement, the only gift he received from someone was a single, empty, greeting card.
But when he was in office, he used to lose counts of monetary gifts and loads of other gifts which used to greet the door mat of his office. He was like a king, now he’s like a poor man, eating from the crumbs falling down from the rich guy’s table. That’s the bitter irony of life.
Let’s not forget that Abubakar is a dedicated Muslim. His religion permits him to marry 300 wives if he so desires.
That he had kept only to his late wife, is something worth applauding.
Another thing I argue with people is that Abubakar’s late wife died of cancer. Do you know how many years she must have been battling that debilitating disease?
I know what I’m talking about because I had taken a lot of time to study everything cancer, especially cervical cancer.
There was a time I was discussing with Abubakar about cervical cancer and he told me that there were now ways to manage it if it was detected early.
I never knew the guy was speaking from experience or even had a battle he had been battling with at the home front. Poor guy!
A woman, who had been that sick, for such a long time, probably had not been playing the role of a wife for too long.
This argument is based on the premise that he did not mourn his late wife for even a year before he was already set to remarry.
Let’s face it; Abubakar must have been playing the field for long. Married or not!
At least I know that he had a young son somewhere in Lagos. The child is the product of his romance with a journalist in the broadcast media. I’m sure there are many such ladies scattered about.
This however is not peculiar to Abubakar. It’s a behaviour which is synonymous with all uniform men.
They’re posted to different states, due to the nature of their job. Most of them bang like dogs and drop litters like pigs at every state.
I just don’t understand why amongst all men, uniform men find it most difficult to control their errant manhood.
Once they sight females, their one-eyed-snake will start hissing…eager to jump out and bite the babe’s apple.
The dropping of litters used to shock me too. It means they don’t even bother to use condoms! Nawao!
Just check out soldiers who went for peace mission some years ago. They came back with HIV trophies. We later heard that most of the babes, who handed the trophies, were unwilling participants in the sex.
The babes were raped. Many of the ladies also ended up having unwanted pregnancies and babies.
The poor life of a woman!
Now back to Abubakar.
I don’t think Abubakar is marrying this lady because he wants to practice how to rotate his buttocks in bed or to know whether his manhood could still be as strong as Olumo rock. Nay, it’s much more than that!
He’s also not remarrying because he suddenly had a desire to have children. Nope, the guy has several grown kids.
If it’s all about sex, he could be having it every day and any day. Babes dey plenty? Abubakar na fine boy, no pimples!
Even Tafa Balogun, former IG had his own harem of babes. I know. Even two friend dated Tafa and they didn’t mind sharing his sugar cane. He bought each of them fine cars. And that’s all its’ all about. The materialism!
No guy wants to be loved or wanted because of what he could give a babe.
A lot of guys in Abubakar’s position are lonely, even though they seemed to have legions of women flocking around and banging them.
They might even have a lady for each day of the week. But still the loneliness is there. It becomes worst at night. Or when you can’t even remember the name of the last babe you banged.
But without the money and power, what then?
These men are nothing! More like empty shells.
I want to believe that Abubakar is marrying for companionship and probably for love. But sex is not everything, especially for someone his age.
He probably wants to come home each day to a familiar face. He wants to eat home prepared food. He wants to have a sane discussion void of Boko Haram attacks, Fulani herds’ men killing one another, kidnappers rampaging, PDP crisis and President Jonathan and Dame Theatrics!
If someone like him at this age wants to start worrying about his prowess in bed, he would end up ingesting too many Viagra pills or the Hausa man Viagra known as Buratashi.
The guy go just kill him sef! Buratashi is supposed to make the most withered looking of manhood, to suddenly become infused with life and vigour and go for as many rounds as possible.
There was a time I thought it was a myth, but some good guys had put me straight!
I’m sure he had been banging the girl for long and they’re both happy with his performances in bed. I’m sure the lady, though far younger than Abubakar, is also satisfied with him.
But the truth is this: Abubakar may even decide to marry more women after her and there is nothing, absolutely nothing anyone can do about it!
The lady will accept it because their religion permits it.
The bottom-line however is that IG or not, every guy deserves to be happy. And if this lady is Abubakar’s perceived person who will bring him that happiness, then please let them be.
Life is too brief ojare!
Old article.
What is the big deal if the Inspector General of Police, Mohammed Abubakar is getting married?
If you had heard the buzz the news generated in my office, you had think a swarm of locust was about to wage war on mankind.
For crying out loud, Abubakar is foremost a guy before a policeman.
He’s just like the guy next door.
He has blood flowing in his veins. Just like any other guy, when he’s sexually excited, everything that is supposed to become engorged and straining will definitely do, except he has a problem.
Believe me, I don’t think he has!
And if you’re angry enough to tear off his proud, blue and black uniform and check out his vital statistics, you had first discover that just like any other guy, he has two lines men and one referee dangling between his thighs.
Now that we’ve established that he’s a guy, why can’t he possibly be allowed to act like any other man?
And some people even had the gut to say women gossip! It’s a lie. I have discovered that men gossip more than women.
Since the Abubakar love bug story broke, its only men I heard running stupid commentary and harping on it.
Listen to some of their silly uptake:
“Please remind me, when the IG wife did died that he’s now set to remarry? Or has he being having affair with this lady while his poor wife had been sick?”
And I had asked the busy body folk, “Wetin concern you! Why are you taking paracetamol over another’s guy’s headache?”
And another uptake:
“I heard the IG is getting married in September. Can you believe that? With all the Boko Haram wahala, he still has time for banging. If he sets to marry in the middle of the entire crisis, it means, all these time, he has been banging that babe.”
Sincerely, I pity people like the IG. People who are always in the limelight.
What ordinary you or I would have done and got away with, is not always the same with them.
If they cough, sneeze or fart, people simply become interested.
Once you’re in the limelight, everything you or doesn’t do, will always warrant discuss, analysis and dissertation.
If Abubakar had been cheating on his wife, before his death, it’s no biggy for someone like him. So mind your business!
If Abubakar doesn’t chase women, women will chase him.
I can bet you, that there’re hundred and one woman, in the queue, right now, waiting to give him the ‘Monica Lewinsky treatment.’
Yes O! To give him blowjob right there in his office. They are ready to crawl under his giant mahogany desk, unzip his well starched black trouser and buried their lusty, warm tongue over his manhood.
If you know the IG one-on-one, ask him the number of women who had offered him such lovely lip services. If he’s truthful, he’ll tell you that they are many.
And he gets these lips and ‘peg in the hole’ services, not just because he’s good looking, but majorly due to the power that comes with his office and position.
Many women love power. They want to move with those in the corridors of power and if giving him a little, tiny blowjob is the beginning to garner that power and share in it, so be it!
Abubakar is receiving a lot of attention right now because he’s probably one of the ever heard IG, who wants to get married while still in office.
I don’t even want to start talking about the bountiful goodies which such union will bring his way, especially since he’s still in office.
After all, Marvellous Akpoyibo did the same when he was the Commissioner of Police, Lagos State. Akpoyibo even taxed his Divisional Police Officers. At the end of the day, Akpos did not spend a dim in his daughter’s wedding. Well wishers and forced well wishers, sort of did the wedding for him.
It was the DPO’s who spilled the bean to us.
So tell me, if you’re in the position of IG or Akpoyibo, wouldn’t you do the same? It’s only a foolish man who will leave office before embarking on something.
I mean, after you leave office, you’re absolutely nothing! A policeman who retired told me that after his retirement, the only gift he received from someone was a single, empty, greeting card.
But when he was in office, he used to lose counts of monetary gifts and loads of other gifts which used to greet the door mat of his office. He was like a king, now he’s like a poor man, eating from the crumbs falling down from the rich guy’s table. That’s the bitter irony of life.
Let’s not forget that Abubakar is a dedicated Muslim. His religion permits him to marry 300 wives if he so desires.
That he had kept only to his late wife, is something worth applauding.
Another thing I argue with people is that Abubakar’s late wife died of cancer. Do you know how many years she must have been battling that debilitating disease?
I know what I’m talking about because I had taken a lot of time to study everything cancer, especially cervical cancer.
There was a time I was discussing with Abubakar about cervical cancer and he told me that there were now ways to manage it if it was detected early.
I never knew the guy was speaking from experience or even had a battle he had been battling with at the home front. Poor guy!
A woman, who had been that sick, for such a long time, probably had not been playing the role of a wife for too long.
This argument is based on the premise that he did not mourn his late wife for even a year before he was already set to remarry.
Let’s face it; Abubakar must have been playing the field for long. Married or not!
At least I know that he had a young son somewhere in Lagos. The child is the product of his romance with a journalist in the broadcast media. I’m sure there are many such ladies scattered about.
This however is not peculiar to Abubakar. It’s a behaviour which is synonymous with all uniform men.
They’re posted to different states, due to the nature of their job. Most of them bang like dogs and drop litters like pigs at every state.
I just don’t understand why amongst all men, uniform men find it most difficult to control their errant manhood.
Once they sight females, their one-eyed-snake will start hissing…eager to jump out and bite the babe’s apple.
The dropping of litters used to shock me too. It means they don’t even bother to use condoms! Nawao!
Just check out soldiers who went for peace mission some years ago. They came back with HIV trophies. We later heard that most of the babes, who handed the trophies, were unwilling participants in the sex.
The babes were raped. Many of the ladies also ended up having unwanted pregnancies and babies.
The poor life of a woman!
Now back to Abubakar.
I don’t think Abubakar is marrying this lady because he wants to practice how to rotate his buttocks in bed or to know whether his manhood could still be as strong as Olumo rock. Nay, it’s much more than that!
He’s also not remarrying because he suddenly had a desire to have children. Nope, the guy has several grown kids.
If it’s all about sex, he could be having it every day and any day. Babes dey plenty? Abubakar na fine boy, no pimples!
Even Tafa Balogun, former IG had his own harem of babes. I know. Even two friend dated Tafa and they didn’t mind sharing his sugar cane. He bought each of them fine cars. And that’s all its’ all about. The materialism!
No guy wants to be loved or wanted because of what he could give a babe.
A lot of guys in Abubakar’s position are lonely, even though they seemed to have legions of women flocking around and banging them.
They might even have a lady for each day of the week. But still the loneliness is there. It becomes worst at night. Or when you can’t even remember the name of the last babe you banged.
But without the money and power, what then?
These men are nothing! More like empty shells.
I want to believe that Abubakar is marrying for companionship and probably for love. But sex is not everything, especially for someone his age.
He probably wants to come home each day to a familiar face. He wants to eat home prepared food. He wants to have a sane discussion void of Boko Haram attacks, Fulani herds’ men killing one another, kidnappers rampaging, PDP crisis and President Jonathan and Dame Theatrics!
If someone like him at this age wants to start worrying about his prowess in bed, he would end up ingesting too many Viagra pills or the Hausa man Viagra known as Buratashi.
The guy go just kill him sef! Buratashi is supposed to make the most withered looking of manhood, to suddenly become infused with life and vigour and go for as many rounds as possible.
There was a time I thought it was a myth, but some good guys had put me straight!
I’m sure he had been banging the girl for long and they’re both happy with his performances in bed. I’m sure the lady, though far younger than Abubakar, is also satisfied with him.
But the truth is this: Abubakar may even decide to marry more women after her and there is nothing, absolutely nothing anyone can do about it!
The lady will accept it because their religion permits it.
The bottom-line however is that IG or not, every guy deserves to be happy. And if this lady is Abubakar’s perceived person who will bring him that happiness, then please let them be.
Life is too brief ojare!
Old article.
…And the stranger begged me to massage his manhood (5)
These are the strangest perverts you’re ever likely going to come across. They are queers. They are strange. They are completely out of this world.
I once met such a guy in a commercial bus.
Yes, I know that for those of you who have been following me for years, you’ve heard this story a million time.
But hey, give me a break! I love telling it.
Hold on, you’re jumping ahead of me in the story. Nay, he didn’t try any monkey business in the bus with me. This is why I said hold and pay attention.
Who’s telling the story? You or I?
Anyway, he didn’t try anything, but he kept staring at me. Perhaps he found me pretty? Who knows how their dirty minds work and what triggers them off.
I was definitely sure that it couldn’t have been my boobs. I’m not well endowed in that area.
In fact, before my boobs developed to the size of an egg, I was already contemplating visiting a native doctor to tell me why my boobs refused to come when those of my friends were already huge like watermelon and they were already flaunting them.
And when my boobs eventually, reluctantly staggered out, they stopped short of being unnoticed.
But I’m okay with them.
I’m not going to annoy Baba God by cramping my bra with pad.
When we got to Oshodi, I alighted and quickly forgot about the strange guy.
But he didn’t forget me. He followed me.
I didn’t know until I got to Bolande Junction, where they call Brown Street.
If you’ve ever been to Oshodi, you’d know how busy the place is.
People are buying and selling, commercial bus drivers are forever cursing and honking their buses horns.
People are always about. Some people are hurrying to keep appointments, others hurrying to their homes.
I was hurrying to a laboratory to collect a result for my boss.
The strange guy was hurrying to have his manhood grabbed and massaged in a public place. Sicko!
It was a hot day. He stopped me moments after I passed Bolande Junction, into Brown.
He said he had been looking at me in the bus. That I was pretty and could I please touch and caress his manhood for him. He didn’t stutter. He was dead serious.
He was already quite close to me. I’m a short woman, but I could stare straight into his eyes even on stocking feet. He was wearing a cheap looking three piece suit and his trouser had quarrel with the ground and seems unsure whether to cover his legs or stay jumped up.
He has frog eyes that dominated his feature. His shoes were threadbare.
To say I was shocked at his strange request was putting it mildly.
I said no! He begged like his life depended on my massaging his manhood. He even suggested that we should look for a nearby hotel at Oshodi, so that I could do the thing for him.
Before you could Jack Robison! The idiot grabbed my hand, attempting to place it on his crotch.
I furiously snatched my hand and glanced down his crotch.
Jeez! The guy was fully erected and even his cheap suit couldn’t hide the fact that he was as hard as Olumo Rock! I turned tail and ran like the hounds of hell were after me. Crazy man!
Did I remember to tell you guys that he promised to pay me if I could just massage his sugar stick?
Maybe his curse is jerking off in public places or begging strange women to touch his manhood.
Yes O! We have perverts who derive great sexual pleasures in jerking off in public places.
Do you guys still remember the guy in Ilorin I told you about?
Yes! Once he sees a female, he would expertly whip out his candy bar and begin wagging it, until he grows and becomes quite turgid.
People in my neighbourhood were so used to him that they nicknamed him, ‘DokoDoko.”
But I was not used to him. I had never met him until my fateful encounter with him that fateful night. I had never even heard of him. I and my two roommates stayed off campus. They had both travelled to Lagos; I was alone at home that day.
Ilorin is always very hot. Most times, we leave our windows open to catch any flitting breeze.
I was sleeping when I heard a noise. It was coming from the window. Scared, I crept closer. I didn’t see anything.
I was about to turn away, thinking it was my over active imagination, when somebody whispered, ‘hey!’
I peered closer through the net and saw this guy. His trouser was hanging around his hip. He threw his back in apparent enjoyment, and his manhood, already turgid was in his hands and he was playing with it furiously.
He was watching me gleefully and smiling in a satanic way.
I howled in fright. My screams almost shattered the foundation of the building.
I ran out of the apartment.
My screams attracted my neighbours who dashed out from their rooms. I explained the strange encounter, with the strange guy and they all started laughing.
They said everyone knew him. That used to do same to every female and could even jerk off if you bother to stay long enough and watch him.
They said he was harmless.
Are you kidding me? How can a prowling rapist be harmless! The guy had just raped me psychologically! My sensitive soul was traumatised.
Imagine what he would do to a lady, in the dark, if he finds her alone.
There’s another group of perverts who derive orgasm by inflicting pains on their lovers. If they’re on top their babes, they would pummel her until they climax. By the time she crawls out from under him, she would think a trailer ran over her. Women also belong to that group.
I would have loved to tell you about them and others, but I feel I’ve spent too many weeks on these perverts discussion. Let’s discuss something else ojare!
ebere20@gmail.com SMS: 08155733671
I once met such a guy in a commercial bus.
Yes, I know that for those of you who have been following me for years, you’ve heard this story a million time.
But hey, give me a break! I love telling it.
Hold on, you’re jumping ahead of me in the story. Nay, he didn’t try any monkey business in the bus with me. This is why I said hold and pay attention.
Who’s telling the story? You or I?
Anyway, he didn’t try anything, but he kept staring at me. Perhaps he found me pretty? Who knows how their dirty minds work and what triggers them off.
I was definitely sure that it couldn’t have been my boobs. I’m not well endowed in that area.
In fact, before my boobs developed to the size of an egg, I was already contemplating visiting a native doctor to tell me why my boobs refused to come when those of my friends were already huge like watermelon and they were already flaunting them.
And when my boobs eventually, reluctantly staggered out, they stopped short of being unnoticed.
But I’m okay with them.
I’m not going to annoy Baba God by cramping my bra with pad.
When we got to Oshodi, I alighted and quickly forgot about the strange guy.
But he didn’t forget me. He followed me.
I didn’t know until I got to Bolande Junction, where they call Brown Street.
If you’ve ever been to Oshodi, you’d know how busy the place is.
People are buying and selling, commercial bus drivers are forever cursing and honking their buses horns.
People are always about. Some people are hurrying to keep appointments, others hurrying to their homes.
I was hurrying to a laboratory to collect a result for my boss.
The strange guy was hurrying to have his manhood grabbed and massaged in a public place. Sicko!
It was a hot day. He stopped me moments after I passed Bolande Junction, into Brown.
He said he had been looking at me in the bus. That I was pretty and could I please touch and caress his manhood for him. He didn’t stutter. He was dead serious.
He was already quite close to me. I’m a short woman, but I could stare straight into his eyes even on stocking feet. He was wearing a cheap looking three piece suit and his trouser had quarrel with the ground and seems unsure whether to cover his legs or stay jumped up.
He has frog eyes that dominated his feature. His shoes were threadbare.
To say I was shocked at his strange request was putting it mildly.
I said no! He begged like his life depended on my massaging his manhood. He even suggested that we should look for a nearby hotel at Oshodi, so that I could do the thing for him.
Before you could Jack Robison! The idiot grabbed my hand, attempting to place it on his crotch.
I furiously snatched my hand and glanced down his crotch.
Jeez! The guy was fully erected and even his cheap suit couldn’t hide the fact that he was as hard as Olumo Rock! I turned tail and ran like the hounds of hell were after me. Crazy man!
Did I remember to tell you guys that he promised to pay me if I could just massage his sugar stick?
Maybe his curse is jerking off in public places or begging strange women to touch his manhood.
Yes O! We have perverts who derive great sexual pleasures in jerking off in public places.
Do you guys still remember the guy in Ilorin I told you about?
Yes! Once he sees a female, he would expertly whip out his candy bar and begin wagging it, until he grows and becomes quite turgid.
People in my neighbourhood were so used to him that they nicknamed him, ‘DokoDoko.”
But I was not used to him. I had never met him until my fateful encounter with him that fateful night. I had never even heard of him. I and my two roommates stayed off campus. They had both travelled to Lagos; I was alone at home that day.
Ilorin is always very hot. Most times, we leave our windows open to catch any flitting breeze.
I was sleeping when I heard a noise. It was coming from the window. Scared, I crept closer. I didn’t see anything.
I was about to turn away, thinking it was my over active imagination, when somebody whispered, ‘hey!’
I peered closer through the net and saw this guy. His trouser was hanging around his hip. He threw his back in apparent enjoyment, and his manhood, already turgid was in his hands and he was playing with it furiously.
He was watching me gleefully and smiling in a satanic way.
I howled in fright. My screams almost shattered the foundation of the building.
I ran out of the apartment.
My screams attracted my neighbours who dashed out from their rooms. I explained the strange encounter, with the strange guy and they all started laughing.
They said everyone knew him. That used to do same to every female and could even jerk off if you bother to stay long enough and watch him.
They said he was harmless.
Are you kidding me? How can a prowling rapist be harmless! The guy had just raped me psychologically! My sensitive soul was traumatised.
Imagine what he would do to a lady, in the dark, if he finds her alone.
There’s another group of perverts who derive orgasm by inflicting pains on their lovers. If they’re on top their babes, they would pummel her until they climax. By the time she crawls out from under him, she would think a trailer ran over her. Women also belong to that group.
I would have loved to tell you about them and others, but I feel I’ve spent too many weeks on these perverts discussion. Let’s discuss something else ojare!
ebere20@gmail.com SMS: 08155733671
Why can’t a lady walk up to a guy and profess her love? (2)
Rachel’s love for Deji waxed stronger each day. But she continued to keep her feelings to herself.
She was however unaware that Deji had confided in another colleague that he loved Rachel. He also was too shy and timid to tell her how he felt about her.
The colleague offered to assist him, speak to Rachel, but Deji said no. He said the time was not ripe.
As fate would have it, both of them travelled to the eastern part of the country for a research.
They were together for three months. As each day slide by, they worked side by side, but still continued to shield their feelings for each other.
Then it was time for Deji to go back to America. While leaving, he asked Rachael to see him off to the airport. Rachel was happy, feeling that Deji would say something to her.
They got to the airport and they hugged tightly like they wanted their hearts to communicate the unspoken words.
Rachel was disappointed when Deji whispered: “You’ve been a wonderful lady! I look forward to a lifetime partnership with you.”
He turned away, fighting tears. Rachael said she never knew the meaning of the tears.
Days ran into months and months into years. Deji kept calling, to check up on Rachael.
But he later stopped calling. Rachael continued with her life here in Nigeria and held on to the good times she spent with Deji.
Rachael found another man and got married to him. She told me she never loved her husband, but just opted for him when she couldn’t withstand the pressure from the home front.
And now, exactly two months after her marriage, Deji called to propose to her!
“Deji was the one who called earlier.”
She started crying again.
I felt wetness on my cheeks. When I touched my cheeks, I discovered I was crying.
“Why didn’t you profess your love to Deji?” I asked her.
She replied: “Tee, it is not African.”
I felt like slapping her.
“How could you allow pride to whisk away your happiness?”
“Tee, I thought it was wrong for me to make the first move.”
When she said this, I shook my head.
I thought of what to tell her but came up empty. After a long pause, I said: “Rachael, accept your fate and learn to love your husband.”
I tried to chat with up but she wouldn’t just cooperate.
When we got back to the office after our official assignment, Deji was already waiting for Rachael there. He said he came to see things for himself and to put an end to the expensive joke of the year.
But alas! It was no joke. It was for real. When they had the opportunity to talk, Deji told her she was the only lady he had ever been attracted to and she would remain his only love.
After spending some days, Deji eventually went back and I later learnt he cried all through after speaking with Rachael.
I learnt he even tried convincing Rachael to divorce her husband but she refused.
Now, Rachael is an unhappy lady in her marriage because she doesn’t love the man she got married to. Deji is seriously angry because Rachael is the only lady he had been attracted to after suffering from heartbreak during his undergraduate days.
Fate brought them together but like Jimmy Cliff’s song ‘The harder they come,’ both of them allowed the love they had for each other go.
Now the big question: Is it wrong for a woman to walk up to a man and profess her love for him?
Concluded...
Contributor, Miss. Adetola Ademosun
Do share our stories and blog with your friends. You can also share your relationships stories and tips with our teeming readers.
ebere20@gmail.com
She was however unaware that Deji had confided in another colleague that he loved Rachel. He also was too shy and timid to tell her how he felt about her.
The colleague offered to assist him, speak to Rachel, but Deji said no. He said the time was not ripe.
As fate would have it, both of them travelled to the eastern part of the country for a research.
They were together for three months. As each day slide by, they worked side by side, but still continued to shield their feelings for each other.
Then it was time for Deji to go back to America. While leaving, he asked Rachael to see him off to the airport. Rachel was happy, feeling that Deji would say something to her.
They got to the airport and they hugged tightly like they wanted their hearts to communicate the unspoken words.
Rachel was disappointed when Deji whispered: “You’ve been a wonderful lady! I look forward to a lifetime partnership with you.”
He turned away, fighting tears. Rachael said she never knew the meaning of the tears.
Days ran into months and months into years. Deji kept calling, to check up on Rachael.
But he later stopped calling. Rachael continued with her life here in Nigeria and held on to the good times she spent with Deji.
Rachael found another man and got married to him. She told me she never loved her husband, but just opted for him when she couldn’t withstand the pressure from the home front.
And now, exactly two months after her marriage, Deji called to propose to her!
“Deji was the one who called earlier.”
She started crying again.
I felt wetness on my cheeks. When I touched my cheeks, I discovered I was crying.
“Why didn’t you profess your love to Deji?” I asked her.
She replied: “Tee, it is not African.”
I felt like slapping her.
“How could you allow pride to whisk away your happiness?”
“Tee, I thought it was wrong for me to make the first move.”
When she said this, I shook my head.
I thought of what to tell her but came up empty. After a long pause, I said: “Rachael, accept your fate and learn to love your husband.”
I tried to chat with up but she wouldn’t just cooperate.
When we got back to the office after our official assignment, Deji was already waiting for Rachael there. He said he came to see things for himself and to put an end to the expensive joke of the year.
But alas! It was no joke. It was for real. When they had the opportunity to talk, Deji told her she was the only lady he had ever been attracted to and she would remain his only love.
After spending some days, Deji eventually went back and I later learnt he cried all through after speaking with Rachael.
I learnt he even tried convincing Rachael to divorce her husband but she refused.
Now, Rachael is an unhappy lady in her marriage because she doesn’t love the man she got married to. Deji is seriously angry because Rachael is the only lady he had been attracted to after suffering from heartbreak during his undergraduate days.
Fate brought them together but like Jimmy Cliff’s song ‘The harder they come,’ both of them allowed the love they had for each other go.
Now the big question: Is it wrong for a woman to walk up to a man and profess her love for him?
Concluded...
Contributor, Miss. Adetola Ademosun
Do share our stories and blog with your friends. You can also share your relationships stories and tips with our teeming readers.
ebere20@gmail.com
Why can’t a lady walk up to a guy and profess her love? (1)
Rolling back and forth on my bed, I couldn’t forget the discussion I had with my colleague earlier.
It was a saddening discussion and it left me depressed.
I wondered why people prefer to suffer in silence, when they could have done something to help their situations.
I asked myself so many questions; such as, what could have made this lady and the guy to so cheaply loose their happiness.
Why did she kept mute and watched fate takes its toll on her?
Well, maybe I was just thinking of the lady alone. The thought of the man’s state of mind also flashed through my mind. I was however more concerned about the lady.
It was just a phone call that shattered the beautiful day for Rachel. A day that started with laughter, ended in wretched sobs.
This is the scenario: Rachael’s phone rang beside me. She looked at the screen and said: “Who is the owner of this international number calling me?”
She picked the call. The next thing I heard few minutes after she said hello, was her silent weeping.
She mewled in pains. I was surprised.
I looked at Rachael and all I saw were tears rolling down her pretty cheeks.
She held on tightly to the phone as if her life depended on it. I could still hear the voice of her caller on the other end.
I tried to imagine what could have happened, but failed.
I glanced from her face, to the phone she held closely to her chest. What could have happened? Why the sudden change in Rachael’s mood?
Well, since I’m not clairvoyant, I couldn’t figure out what happened. She wiped her face and didn’t contribute to the discussions in the office anymore.
She refused to chat with anyone. She refused to be egged into any discussion.
I caught her intermittently forgetting herself and staring into space.
She followed me to lunch on the way to our bunks, but it was like she was not there. Her mind was elsewhere, but her body sat opposite me.
She picked at her food.
She mixed her rice and stew like a bricklayer mixing granite and cement. I could see her holding back tears. Finally she said: “Tee, I want to go to the bunk and relax.”
Oh, I forgot to tell you that we went on a survey somewhere in Ogun State.
I and Rachael shared a room. The other male colleagues, who accompanied us to the assignment, started asking me series of questions. Just because we shared a room didn’t mean I should know everything about Rachel. But I wanted her to open up to me.
Looking confused myself, I couldn’t give our colleagues a response.
One of them said: “Maybe she missed her period.”
Twichhhhhhhh, I hissed and went to meet Rachael in the room.
She pressed her head into her pillow and wept like her heart was breaking. I was alarmed. The pillow case was wet when I touched it. I summoned courage.
I asked: “Rachael, kilode?”
She raised her head from the pillow and when I turned to look at her face, they were red and puffy from crying.
Rachael is married. In fact, she got married two just months ago. I’ve always seen her as a very conservative lady but not the spirikoko type.
Hope you know what I mean by the spirikoko type?
Well... religious babes!
I think her way of life is based more on moral than religion.
She cried more.
Then she narrated the story that changes the course of her life.
I was depressed after listening to her.
This is her story;
Rachael met a young man named Deji in the office. Deji is a Researcher from U.S.A who came to Nigeria on the bill of an international organisation to carry out a research in Nigeria. The chosen place of research for Deji was Rachael’s office. Both were to work together for the period of time Deji would conclude his research in Nigeria.
According to Rachael, she was attracted to Deji at first sight and yearned for him to woo her. She was one of those ladies brought up to believe that a guy must be the one to approach and woo a babe.
All through the time they worked together, the relationship was strictly official. Her mode of dressing became different when Deji came on board at her office. But even as she continued to dress and act to attract and impress Deji, the young researcher never looked at her twice. Or so she thought…
To be continued.
Contributor, Miss. Adetola Ademosun ebere20@gmail.com
It was a saddening discussion and it left me depressed.
I wondered why people prefer to suffer in silence, when they could have done something to help their situations.
I asked myself so many questions; such as, what could have made this lady and the guy to so cheaply loose their happiness.
Why did she kept mute and watched fate takes its toll on her?
Well, maybe I was just thinking of the lady alone. The thought of the man’s state of mind also flashed through my mind. I was however more concerned about the lady.
It was just a phone call that shattered the beautiful day for Rachel. A day that started with laughter, ended in wretched sobs.
This is the scenario: Rachael’s phone rang beside me. She looked at the screen and said: “Who is the owner of this international number calling me?”
She picked the call. The next thing I heard few minutes after she said hello, was her silent weeping.
She mewled in pains. I was surprised.
I looked at Rachael and all I saw were tears rolling down her pretty cheeks.
She held on tightly to the phone as if her life depended on it. I could still hear the voice of her caller on the other end.
I tried to imagine what could have happened, but failed.
I glanced from her face, to the phone she held closely to her chest. What could have happened? Why the sudden change in Rachael’s mood?
Well, since I’m not clairvoyant, I couldn’t figure out what happened. She wiped her face and didn’t contribute to the discussions in the office anymore.
She refused to chat with anyone. She refused to be egged into any discussion.
I caught her intermittently forgetting herself and staring into space.
She followed me to lunch on the way to our bunks, but it was like she was not there. Her mind was elsewhere, but her body sat opposite me.
She picked at her food.
She mixed her rice and stew like a bricklayer mixing granite and cement. I could see her holding back tears. Finally she said: “Tee, I want to go to the bunk and relax.”
Oh, I forgot to tell you that we went on a survey somewhere in Ogun State.
I and Rachael shared a room. The other male colleagues, who accompanied us to the assignment, started asking me series of questions. Just because we shared a room didn’t mean I should know everything about Rachel. But I wanted her to open up to me.
Looking confused myself, I couldn’t give our colleagues a response.
One of them said: “Maybe she missed her period.”
Twichhhhhhhh, I hissed and went to meet Rachael in the room.
She pressed her head into her pillow and wept like her heart was breaking. I was alarmed. The pillow case was wet when I touched it. I summoned courage.
I asked: “Rachael, kilode?”
She raised her head from the pillow and when I turned to look at her face, they were red and puffy from crying.
Rachael is married. In fact, she got married two just months ago. I’ve always seen her as a very conservative lady but not the spirikoko type.
Hope you know what I mean by the spirikoko type?
Well... religious babes!
I think her way of life is based more on moral than religion.
She cried more.
Then she narrated the story that changes the course of her life.
I was depressed after listening to her.
This is her story;
Rachael met a young man named Deji in the office. Deji is a Researcher from U.S.A who came to Nigeria on the bill of an international organisation to carry out a research in Nigeria. The chosen place of research for Deji was Rachael’s office. Both were to work together for the period of time Deji would conclude his research in Nigeria.
According to Rachael, she was attracted to Deji at first sight and yearned for him to woo her. She was one of those ladies brought up to believe that a guy must be the one to approach and woo a babe.
All through the time they worked together, the relationship was strictly official. Her mode of dressing became different when Deji came on board at her office. But even as she continued to dress and act to attract and impress Deji, the young researcher never looked at her twice. Or so she thought…
To be continued.
Contributor, Miss. Adetola Ademosun ebere20@gmail.com
Sex on a first date
“What! Let a guy bang me on a first date? That is sick! Really sick! Honestly Julie, give me a break! Don’t tell me you go for such perverted behaviour!,” Ifeoma screamed.
Let’s face it, most ladies are like Ifeoma…ladies who can’t possibly, on a first date, allow a guy go as far as to take a peep into their bra, let alone to feel what those sexy dream dresses that send guys adrenaline pumping, cover.
The Ifeomas of this world simply develop the hives at the mere thought of smooching with a stranger.
How well does one really needs to know one’s date before going to bed with the person?
Tough question?
Most ladies have phobia for first date sex because of what they feel the guy may think of them. Not as if they don’t want to. Some guys have arrogated to themselves the position of jury.
They judge ladies, perhaps, because they are so blessed with balls and testicles.
They are quick to condemn and call ladies who express their mutual attraction on a first date, tramps!
They indirectly compel ladies to develop inhibitions. It makes one want to bawl at the injustices of life.
They call it a man’s world.
A guy bangs a babe on a first, he is called a stud, with a pat on his shoulder. While a lady that has the effrontery to do the same is tagged a slut! Quite unfair!
Just the other day, my humble friend, Bashiru, who is very religious, said he couldn’t imagine himself having sex with a lady on a first date.
He thinks that kind of lady is wacko or suffers from nymphomania! He said he would never get serious with such a girl.
His reason was not unconnected with the belief that the babe would still behave amorously given the time and chance with another guy.
The problem here lies in our African heritage, which sees virtue and moral decorum as twin sisters, thus connoting physical expression in any of its ramification as a flagrant vice.
The ridiculous thing about Africans and Nigerians in particular is that no matter how hard they fight to westernise themselves in accent, behaviour and mode of clothing, situations still exist that make the African in them stick out like a sore thumb.
Listen folks!
There are quite a large number of men out there who think it’s cool to get between the juicy cores of an attractive babe on a first date.
It boosts their ego positively. They even tell you in a point blank poker faced voice that guys who have divergent opinions had been brain washed.
Really sweetheart, one-on-one, do you think it has got a fig to do with illiteracy?
No, not quite!
I think it boils down to principle. What with the church explosion trend in our society. You get to meet people with visibly lofty principles in the day, but who strangely metamorphose into another character with questionable principles at night.
Hmm! So much for christian virtues. Now, don’t get me wrong. Serving the Almighty God is good, but let’s do it with more sincerity and less hypocrisy.
Some guys would even argue that once the babe is willing on a first date, what the heck is wrong with ramming their shafts into her eagerly waiting centre.
Sex on a first date has been known to happen due to that foreign emotion called love or lust.
It could happen due to love at first sight! A stunning number of people have done one crazy thing or another in the throes of love. At times, it is something one would never have been caught doing alive. Something which, in retrospect, makes you ponder and wonder at your behaviour.
Love is a crazy emotion.
It knows no shame. And it has, on countless occasions, been used to cover many sins.
You might meet in a party… Your spirits are attuned to each other…You both simply want to love each other… What better way to cement such powerful emotions than through the physical fusion of your bodies?
Caught on the wings of love, you’ll turn deaf ears to stealth whispers of getting to know each other better.
Sex is a natural outgrowth of love. That‘s not to say you can’t have lovely relationships devoid of sex.
It is no longer a secret that some relationships have collapsed because the partners denied each other sex. How many ladies and guys have left their spouses or cheated outright because of lack of satisfactory sex life?
If you can sustain your relationship without sex, good for you. You are probably a rare gem, but if you can’t, you best know what to do.
A lot of sex on a first date had happened because of that powerful uncontrollable feeling called sexual chemistry.
It hits you with a bang once you clamp eyes on that stranger that just walked in.
The aura of mystery surrounding the stranger heightens your desire. The ache to possess and be possessed is worse if you have been practicing abstinence for a while.
Then the stranger throws you that burning passion filled look. It simply makes your blood boil. The heart beat goes into a crazy makossa gyration. The core uncurls. Wetness down there becomes an ocean.
The throbbing begs for a panacea and you know you just must have this stranger.
A once surreptitious glance becomes fixed. Breathing becomes heavy; you are like a gasoline, waiting for the strike of a match to explode.
If people can be uninhibited enough to admit the truth, they’ll tell you that the thought that races through the track of their minds once they feel an attraction is sex! Take that to the banks!
The basic thing here is that sex on a first date is meant for mature folks. You may tango with the band wagon already indulging in it or you may choose not to, the choice is up to you.
Like I said earlier, you know the love medicine that is good for you. But whatever you do, always carry packs of condoms in your purse and wallets!
To lay off the issue, Benny met Cesca at a friend’s bachelor’s eve in Ibadan. They fell for each other. Before the night ran out, they’d both had fun and were crazy enough to go for a marriage introduction ceremony two weeks later.
Lo and behold, they are happily married and live in the US. No doubt continuing the feat they started at Ibadan.
Hello! Let’s say I stumbled upon a guy, I was instantaneously attracted to him, he prayed me to honour him with my presence at dinner…he told me, oh, so softly, that he’d like to feel my cunt. What should I do? Your guess is as good as mine!
Remember, you could be wrong.
Article first published 2002.
Let’s face it, most ladies are like Ifeoma…ladies who can’t possibly, on a first date, allow a guy go as far as to take a peep into their bra, let alone to feel what those sexy dream dresses that send guys adrenaline pumping, cover.
The Ifeomas of this world simply develop the hives at the mere thought of smooching with a stranger.
How well does one really needs to know one’s date before going to bed with the person?
Tough question?
Most ladies have phobia for first date sex because of what they feel the guy may think of them. Not as if they don’t want to. Some guys have arrogated to themselves the position of jury.
They judge ladies, perhaps, because they are so blessed with balls and testicles.
They are quick to condemn and call ladies who express their mutual attraction on a first date, tramps!
They indirectly compel ladies to develop inhibitions. It makes one want to bawl at the injustices of life.
They call it a man’s world.
A guy bangs a babe on a first, he is called a stud, with a pat on his shoulder. While a lady that has the effrontery to do the same is tagged a slut! Quite unfair!
Just the other day, my humble friend, Bashiru, who is very religious, said he couldn’t imagine himself having sex with a lady on a first date.
He thinks that kind of lady is wacko or suffers from nymphomania! He said he would never get serious with such a girl.
His reason was not unconnected with the belief that the babe would still behave amorously given the time and chance with another guy.
The problem here lies in our African heritage, which sees virtue and moral decorum as twin sisters, thus connoting physical expression in any of its ramification as a flagrant vice.
The ridiculous thing about Africans and Nigerians in particular is that no matter how hard they fight to westernise themselves in accent, behaviour and mode of clothing, situations still exist that make the African in them stick out like a sore thumb.
Listen folks!
There are quite a large number of men out there who think it’s cool to get between the juicy cores of an attractive babe on a first date.
It boosts their ego positively. They even tell you in a point blank poker faced voice that guys who have divergent opinions had been brain washed.
Really sweetheart, one-on-one, do you think it has got a fig to do with illiteracy?
No, not quite!
I think it boils down to principle. What with the church explosion trend in our society. You get to meet people with visibly lofty principles in the day, but who strangely metamorphose into another character with questionable principles at night.
Hmm! So much for christian virtues. Now, don’t get me wrong. Serving the Almighty God is good, but let’s do it with more sincerity and less hypocrisy.
Some guys would even argue that once the babe is willing on a first date, what the heck is wrong with ramming their shafts into her eagerly waiting centre.
Sex on a first date has been known to happen due to that foreign emotion called love or lust.
It could happen due to love at first sight! A stunning number of people have done one crazy thing or another in the throes of love. At times, it is something one would never have been caught doing alive. Something which, in retrospect, makes you ponder and wonder at your behaviour.
Love is a crazy emotion.
It knows no shame. And it has, on countless occasions, been used to cover many sins.
You might meet in a party… Your spirits are attuned to each other…You both simply want to love each other… What better way to cement such powerful emotions than through the physical fusion of your bodies?
Caught on the wings of love, you’ll turn deaf ears to stealth whispers of getting to know each other better.
Sex is a natural outgrowth of love. That‘s not to say you can’t have lovely relationships devoid of sex.
It is no longer a secret that some relationships have collapsed because the partners denied each other sex. How many ladies and guys have left their spouses or cheated outright because of lack of satisfactory sex life?
If you can sustain your relationship without sex, good for you. You are probably a rare gem, but if you can’t, you best know what to do.
A lot of sex on a first date had happened because of that powerful uncontrollable feeling called sexual chemistry.
It hits you with a bang once you clamp eyes on that stranger that just walked in.
The aura of mystery surrounding the stranger heightens your desire. The ache to possess and be possessed is worse if you have been practicing abstinence for a while.
Then the stranger throws you that burning passion filled look. It simply makes your blood boil. The heart beat goes into a crazy makossa gyration. The core uncurls. Wetness down there becomes an ocean.
The throbbing begs for a panacea and you know you just must have this stranger.
A once surreptitious glance becomes fixed. Breathing becomes heavy; you are like a gasoline, waiting for the strike of a match to explode.
If people can be uninhibited enough to admit the truth, they’ll tell you that the thought that races through the track of their minds once they feel an attraction is sex! Take that to the banks!
The basic thing here is that sex on a first date is meant for mature folks. You may tango with the band wagon already indulging in it or you may choose not to, the choice is up to you.
Like I said earlier, you know the love medicine that is good for you. But whatever you do, always carry packs of condoms in your purse and wallets!
To lay off the issue, Benny met Cesca at a friend’s bachelor’s eve in Ibadan. They fell for each other. Before the night ran out, they’d both had fun and were crazy enough to go for a marriage introduction ceremony two weeks later.
Lo and behold, they are happily married and live in the US. No doubt continuing the feat they started at Ibadan.
Hello! Let’s say I stumbled upon a guy, I was instantaneously attracted to him, he prayed me to honour him with my presence at dinner…he told me, oh, so softly, that he’d like to feel my cunt. What should I do? Your guess is as good as mine!
Remember, you could be wrong.
Article first published 2002.
The vulture is a patient bird
Women are terrible creatures. Some of them don’t have a bone of patience in them.
They’re all grasping and greedy. They want life to be all sunshine and never a hurricane.
But life, marriage is not something to romanticise, but a hard ball of reality, which can knock you out if you’re not strong enough.
But hey, as men, we don’t want them and yet, we can’t do without them.
Many of them fail to realize that marriage is never a bed of roses.
You don’t go into marriage, wearing rose-coloured spectacles. You’ll either crash out of the marriage or your spectacles will break!
Being strong enough is not about bearing punches and insults from your husband. It’s not about stomaching abuses and being emasculated by your wife. It’s learning and redefining the true meaning of tolerance and patience.
Sometimes, I wonder why women don’t take lessons from vultures before they embark on a relationship or marriage. The vulture is a patience bird. No matter how hungry the vulture is, it will always wait for its prey. If a person is about to die, the vulture will wait for death to come before it eats the corpse. If the animal the vulture wants to eat has a thick skin, the vulture will wait for a bigger animal to come and tear the hide off the animal, before it flies down and falls on it.
In a nutshell, the vulture is a patient bird. It waits, knowing the best will soon come.
To get married is not difficult, but to stay and remain married is one hell of a toughie! I know what I’m saying. I’ve been there and I’m probably still there, depending on how you look at it.
You guys are probably wondering what I’m rabbling about.
I’m rabbling and angry about an incident. It has to do with a couple I know.
How can a couple, who so much proclaim love for each other, suddenly become sworn enemies just because the husband lost his job?
I can’t fathom it.
I will tell you the story. It’s the story of…nope…let’s not use real names. Let’s call her Julie. The story is about Julie.
I have not heard from her, but this is just the plain gist, not the meaty aspect of the gist.
Julie’s husband was a banker, but not in Lagos.
He tried as much as possible to visit his lovely wife and three kids on most weekends. Julie is a civil servant and has a nice car.
No, the husband doesn’t have a car.
Before, every statement and sentence ended with ‘my husband said that…my husband said this…”
Whenever the guy was around, the whole family would troop into their little car and off to church they go.
One hell of a happy family….
Then the guy lost his job. It was due to this constant downsizing in banks.
And the happy family crumbled like a pack of cards!
Julie insisted that her husband should go and look for job…any job, no matter how menial, rather than stay at home.
But the husband said she should exercise patience because he was seriously searching and wouldn’t want to settle for just any job. It hadn’t even been up to three months that he lost his job. Why was she nagging like it was three years?
He asked Julie why she couldn’t just take care of him and stomach the present discomfort just for while?
He reminded her that he used to send her monthly allowance of N80,000, while some husbands’ give their wives just N5,000, when the going was good. He reminded her that aside from the monthly money, even though she was working, he pays all the bills in the home, including money that had to do with his kids.
And before you could say Jack Robison, the situation degenerated from bickering to wrestling match in the home, while the children and house help watch.
It was a hot battle, with Julie saying she only married him because she was aging and that he was not in her class.
Phew! Hitting below the belt!
The husband yelled back that he was ready to accept her insults but not her sleeping outside the home for three days only to swagger home like she was not a married woman.
The issue was so bad that they shared their three bedrooms…Julie took two rooms with her kids, while her husband managed one of the rooms.
They also started sharing cooking utensils. Julie took over the cooking gas and cylinder, while her husband managed the kerosene stove.
The other day, her husband was walking by the road, on the street, when Julie came driving past. She saw her husband and made sure to splash him with water from puddle gathered after a rainfall.
She had done that twice to the poor guy and adugbo people were beginning to talk and knew that things were no longer lovey-dovey with the couple.
It was even more obvious that something was wrong judging by the frequent sight of the guy going to buy a loaf of bread or a tuber of yam.
These days, Julie would bundle her kids into her car and drives off to church, while her husband walks alone, forlorn to church every Sunday. Julie’s behaviour is even more baffling because I heard she’s a worker in the church.
The last I heard, Julie has gotten an apartment somewhere in Victoria Island and has started fixing the place and will soon move out of her matrimonial home.
My dear folks…are you sensing what I’m sensing? Do you think there’s a guy somewhere? Egging Julie on and waiting at the wing to come in?
If she has such a whooping amount to rent a flat in VI, why can’t she spend it on her man and their marriage? Is the marriage not worth fighting for? What about the kids? Don’t they deserved to have their parents together? Bringing a child up alone as a woman is not easy, let alone bringing three kids up alone.
Oh Julie, I hope it’s not a guy or you’ll regret it! Don’t you know yet that most men, who enjoy chopping married women, are deceivers? They never have good plans….
They’re all grasping and greedy. They want life to be all sunshine and never a hurricane.
But life, marriage is not something to romanticise, but a hard ball of reality, which can knock you out if you’re not strong enough.
But hey, as men, we don’t want them and yet, we can’t do without them.
Many of them fail to realize that marriage is never a bed of roses.
You don’t go into marriage, wearing rose-coloured spectacles. You’ll either crash out of the marriage or your spectacles will break!
Being strong enough is not about bearing punches and insults from your husband. It’s not about stomaching abuses and being emasculated by your wife. It’s learning and redefining the true meaning of tolerance and patience.
Sometimes, I wonder why women don’t take lessons from vultures before they embark on a relationship or marriage. The vulture is a patience bird. No matter how hungry the vulture is, it will always wait for its prey. If a person is about to die, the vulture will wait for death to come before it eats the corpse. If the animal the vulture wants to eat has a thick skin, the vulture will wait for a bigger animal to come and tear the hide off the animal, before it flies down and falls on it.
In a nutshell, the vulture is a patient bird. It waits, knowing the best will soon come.
To get married is not difficult, but to stay and remain married is one hell of a toughie! I know what I’m saying. I’ve been there and I’m probably still there, depending on how you look at it.
You guys are probably wondering what I’m rabbling about.
I’m rabbling and angry about an incident. It has to do with a couple I know.
How can a couple, who so much proclaim love for each other, suddenly become sworn enemies just because the husband lost his job?
I can’t fathom it.
I will tell you the story. It’s the story of…nope…let’s not use real names. Let’s call her Julie. The story is about Julie.
I have not heard from her, but this is just the plain gist, not the meaty aspect of the gist.
Julie’s husband was a banker, but not in Lagos.
He tried as much as possible to visit his lovely wife and three kids on most weekends. Julie is a civil servant and has a nice car.
No, the husband doesn’t have a car.
Before, every statement and sentence ended with ‘my husband said that…my husband said this…”
Whenever the guy was around, the whole family would troop into their little car and off to church they go.
One hell of a happy family….
Then the guy lost his job. It was due to this constant downsizing in banks.
And the happy family crumbled like a pack of cards!
Julie insisted that her husband should go and look for job…any job, no matter how menial, rather than stay at home.
But the husband said she should exercise patience because he was seriously searching and wouldn’t want to settle for just any job. It hadn’t even been up to three months that he lost his job. Why was she nagging like it was three years?
He asked Julie why she couldn’t just take care of him and stomach the present discomfort just for while?
He reminded her that he used to send her monthly allowance of N80,000, while some husbands’ give their wives just N5,000, when the going was good. He reminded her that aside from the monthly money, even though she was working, he pays all the bills in the home, including money that had to do with his kids.
And before you could say Jack Robison, the situation degenerated from bickering to wrestling match in the home, while the children and house help watch.
It was a hot battle, with Julie saying she only married him because she was aging and that he was not in her class.
Phew! Hitting below the belt!
The husband yelled back that he was ready to accept her insults but not her sleeping outside the home for three days only to swagger home like she was not a married woman.
The issue was so bad that they shared their three bedrooms…Julie took two rooms with her kids, while her husband managed one of the rooms.
They also started sharing cooking utensils. Julie took over the cooking gas and cylinder, while her husband managed the kerosene stove.
The other day, her husband was walking by the road, on the street, when Julie came driving past. She saw her husband and made sure to splash him with water from puddle gathered after a rainfall.
She had done that twice to the poor guy and adugbo people were beginning to talk and knew that things were no longer lovey-dovey with the couple.
It was even more obvious that something was wrong judging by the frequent sight of the guy going to buy a loaf of bread or a tuber of yam.
These days, Julie would bundle her kids into her car and drives off to church, while her husband walks alone, forlorn to church every Sunday. Julie’s behaviour is even more baffling because I heard she’s a worker in the church.
The last I heard, Julie has gotten an apartment somewhere in Victoria Island and has started fixing the place and will soon move out of her matrimonial home.
My dear folks…are you sensing what I’m sensing? Do you think there’s a guy somewhere? Egging Julie on and waiting at the wing to come in?
If she has such a whooping amount to rent a flat in VI, why can’t she spend it on her man and their marriage? Is the marriage not worth fighting for? What about the kids? Don’t they deserved to have their parents together? Bringing a child up alone as a woman is not easy, let alone bringing three kids up alone.
Oh Julie, I hope it’s not a guy or you’ll regret it! Don’t you know yet that most men, who enjoy chopping married women, are deceivers? They never have good plans….
Yes, women do get broke too
I’ve been trying for (lord knows how long), not to let a problems to weigh me down; but the more I try, the harder it seems.
Just a thought, a simple strand of it sets me down the depressed railway track.
I’ve been in this room for (lord knows how long) with my morbid thoughts.
The fact that I’m a female doesn’t exclude or exempt me from having my problems. Most people seems to have a very wrong conception about females and their problems. Some have come outright to say that females are never broke. What this nonsense!
I’ve been trying not to let my financial constraints of the highest order, to bow me. But I fear, I’m failing abysmally.
Just to dress, just only to clothe my frail exposed body and I discovered that I don’t have a good pair of corsets. Do I now start talking about not having other underwear!?
I’ve been living on charity, but even that is no more forthcoming.
I’ve jumped into debts. I’m swimming in it. In fact, drowning in it and nobody wants to save me.
I fell into this ocean, because I stupidly believed in ‘human being.’ Until now, I never knew the frailty of the human being. Now I know what the saying that “man proposes, but God disposes,” really means.
I looked around me and I felt I have no one in this world. I’m all alone, to live or die as I choose.
Does nobody really care about me? Even for my carcase?
My problem was getting the better of me. I’m indebted to my land-lord…I need some clothes and undies. I’ve ran out of body cream and my hair stinks to high heavens.
The list of people I’m indebted to financially keeps increasing. I don’t have money to pay them and no hope of raising money through any means. Worst, I don’t even have money to eat.
From here, whom do I turn to? Nobody except the God Almighty.
Just a thought, a simple strand of it sets me down the depressed railway track.
I’ve been in this room for (lord knows how long) with my morbid thoughts.
The fact that I’m a female doesn’t exclude or exempt me from having my problems. Most people seems to have a very wrong conception about females and their problems. Some have come outright to say that females are never broke. What this nonsense!
I’ve been trying not to let my financial constraints of the highest order, to bow me. But I fear, I’m failing abysmally.
Just to dress, just only to clothe my frail exposed body and I discovered that I don’t have a good pair of corsets. Do I now start talking about not having other underwear!?
I’ve been living on charity, but even that is no more forthcoming.
I’ve jumped into debts. I’m swimming in it. In fact, drowning in it and nobody wants to save me.
I fell into this ocean, because I stupidly believed in ‘human being.’ Until now, I never knew the frailty of the human being. Now I know what the saying that “man proposes, but God disposes,” really means.
I looked around me and I felt I have no one in this world. I’m all alone, to live or die as I choose.
Does nobody really care about me? Even for my carcase?
My problem was getting the better of me. I’m indebted to my land-lord…I need some clothes and undies. I’ve ran out of body cream and my hair stinks to high heavens.
The list of people I’m indebted to financially keeps increasing. I don’t have money to pay them and no hope of raising money through any means. Worst, I don’t even have money to eat.
From here, whom do I turn to? Nobody except the God Almighty.
THE SACRIFICIAL LAMB
They came into my office that day, looking like a strange pair. She was suckling an orange like a child. He held her little fingers tenderly. She looked pale, but very pretty.
She couldn’t be more than 15 years. He was a tall man; perhaps in his middle thirties. He was holding a laboratory form, which he presented to me.
“My wife wants to do a blood test,’’ he said.
I quickly masked my surprise. He was a well-known figure around my working area. I never knew the man has a wife, let alone a ‘child-wife.’
This is cradle snatching!
I quickly glanced through the lab form. She was for widal and malaria parasite tests.
I brought out my needle, tourniquet and syringe. I collected about three mills of blood. I watched the tears gathered in her beautiful eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks. I tried to soothe her while the husband spoke to her in a gentle voice, reserved for kids.
“Please come back in the evening for the result,” I told them.
I watched them leave.
What an odd pair! Is it father and daughter or little sister and big brother?
They didn’t come back until the following morning. My boss had run the tests and she had traces of typhoid. I gave the result to them. They took it to the doctor on duty.
I had almost forgotten about them, when after some days interval, I was going into the ward to collect a patient’s blood sample when I saw that the next patient to the afore mentioned patient was none other than ‘the child-wife’ patient of the other day.
Her name was Yetunde. She looked very ill and emaciated.
When she saw me, there was a glint of recognition in her pale eyes. She smiled weakly at me and I crossed over to her bed side.
“I didn’t know you’ve been admitted.”
It was more of a question than a statement. A shrug from her thin shoulders.
“Where is your husband,” I asked.
“Alhaji will soon be here,” she replied in Yoruba.
I later inquired from some nurses about Yetunde’s health condition.
I learnt her case was a mysterious one. According to the nurses, she had been treated for typhoid, yet there seemed to be no improvement. In fact, everyday her condition continued to deteriorates.
Even now, I can’t explain, it but Yetunde seemed to have a magnet that drew me irresistibly to her. I made it a point of duty to always see her whenever I get to the office. Her mum soon started sleeping with her in the ward.
As each day crawls by, so the life of Yetunde slowly ebbed. I rarely saw the affectionate husband come to visit her.
She kept emaciating to the point that I feared she would break. She hardly eats and keeps throwing up whatever little food dared to pass through her throat.
Tears soon became her daily companion. Her mum didn’t help matters. The old woman was at her wit end, unsure of what to do in the event of inevitable death. The mother too sought solace in tears.
I was crying inside my heart. I wished I could do something to alleviate Yetunde’s suffering.
I didn’t know whether to comfort Yetunde or the old mother. Many a time I had come in to find them hugging each other tightly; while wallowing in tears.
Soon arrangement were made by the Director of the hospital to transfer Yetunde to the Lagos University Teaching Hospital, since her condition was getting worse.
On the day that she was to leave, I tried as much as possible to set to office on time, so that I could say goodbye to her.
By then we had become very close. Immediately I got to the office, I dropped my handbag and ran quickly to her ward. I saw that her bed was empty. I inquired from the nurses on duty and was told that Yetunde died during the night. Tears slowly trickled down my cheeks.
Like I said before, Yetunde supposed husband lived right around the corner of where our hospital is situated. A few months after the deceased of Yetunde, Alhaji bought about four fleets of car, packed out of his one room apartment at the ghetto and rented a duplex at Gbagada Estate.
The kind of girls he started parading in his cars were nothing compared to Yetunde, who was nothing more than a child. These ladies were real sophisticated looking.
Soon, too soon, Yetunde was forgotten.
Can Alhaji ever forget? Do you see any connection between Yetunde’s death and Alhaji’s sudden catapult into wealth? Perhaps you are thinking what I’m thinking, that maybe…
She couldn’t be more than 15 years. He was a tall man; perhaps in his middle thirties. He was holding a laboratory form, which he presented to me.
“My wife wants to do a blood test,’’ he said.
I quickly masked my surprise. He was a well-known figure around my working area. I never knew the man has a wife, let alone a ‘child-wife.’
This is cradle snatching!
I quickly glanced through the lab form. She was for widal and malaria parasite tests.
I brought out my needle, tourniquet and syringe. I collected about three mills of blood. I watched the tears gathered in her beautiful eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks. I tried to soothe her while the husband spoke to her in a gentle voice, reserved for kids.
“Please come back in the evening for the result,” I told them.
I watched them leave.
What an odd pair! Is it father and daughter or little sister and big brother?
They didn’t come back until the following morning. My boss had run the tests and she had traces of typhoid. I gave the result to them. They took it to the doctor on duty.
I had almost forgotten about them, when after some days interval, I was going into the ward to collect a patient’s blood sample when I saw that the next patient to the afore mentioned patient was none other than ‘the child-wife’ patient of the other day.
Her name was Yetunde. She looked very ill and emaciated.
When she saw me, there was a glint of recognition in her pale eyes. She smiled weakly at me and I crossed over to her bed side.
“I didn’t know you’ve been admitted.”
It was more of a question than a statement. A shrug from her thin shoulders.
“Where is your husband,” I asked.
“Alhaji will soon be here,” she replied in Yoruba.
I later inquired from some nurses about Yetunde’s health condition.
I learnt her case was a mysterious one. According to the nurses, she had been treated for typhoid, yet there seemed to be no improvement. In fact, everyday her condition continued to deteriorates.
Even now, I can’t explain, it but Yetunde seemed to have a magnet that drew me irresistibly to her. I made it a point of duty to always see her whenever I get to the office. Her mum soon started sleeping with her in the ward.
As each day crawls by, so the life of Yetunde slowly ebbed. I rarely saw the affectionate husband come to visit her.
She kept emaciating to the point that I feared she would break. She hardly eats and keeps throwing up whatever little food dared to pass through her throat.
Tears soon became her daily companion. Her mum didn’t help matters. The old woman was at her wit end, unsure of what to do in the event of inevitable death. The mother too sought solace in tears.
I was crying inside my heart. I wished I could do something to alleviate Yetunde’s suffering.
I didn’t know whether to comfort Yetunde or the old mother. Many a time I had come in to find them hugging each other tightly; while wallowing in tears.
Soon arrangement were made by the Director of the hospital to transfer Yetunde to the Lagos University Teaching Hospital, since her condition was getting worse.
On the day that she was to leave, I tried as much as possible to set to office on time, so that I could say goodbye to her.
By then we had become very close. Immediately I got to the office, I dropped my handbag and ran quickly to her ward. I saw that her bed was empty. I inquired from the nurses on duty and was told that Yetunde died during the night. Tears slowly trickled down my cheeks.
Like I said before, Yetunde supposed husband lived right around the corner of where our hospital is situated. A few months after the deceased of Yetunde, Alhaji bought about four fleets of car, packed out of his one room apartment at the ghetto and rented a duplex at Gbagada Estate.
The kind of girls he started parading in his cars were nothing compared to Yetunde, who was nothing more than a child. These ladies were real sophisticated looking.
Soon, too soon, Yetunde was forgotten.
Can Alhaji ever forget? Do you see any connection between Yetunde’s death and Alhaji’s sudden catapult into wealth? Perhaps you are thinking what I’m thinking, that maybe…
Husband forced wife to have sex with 2,700 men
A husband 'hired out’ his wife for sex with 2,742 different clients in just four years, a court heard today.
The 54-year-old man, who cannot be named for legal reasons, made the equivalent of more than £5000 a month through the suburban prostitution business.
As his wife, who is 46, welcomed clients, he would sit outside their home in Meaux, north of Paris, in the family car, along with their five-year-old child.
Emmanuel Dupic, prosecutor at the town’s criminal court, said: ‘The husband exercised a psychological power over his wife, preventing her from stopping submitting herself to the sexual needs of customers who were sometimes very tough.’
The couple, who have been married for 10 years, were arrested last Tuesday, but only the man was charged with pimping, and faces a decade in prison.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3285500/Wife-forced-sex-2-700-men.html#ixzz3pO88HmKa
The 54-year-old man, who cannot be named for legal reasons, made the equivalent of more than £5000 a month through the suburban prostitution business.
As his wife, who is 46, welcomed clients, he would sit outside their home in Meaux, north of Paris, in the family car, along with their five-year-old child.
Emmanuel Dupic, prosecutor at the town’s criminal court, said: ‘The husband exercised a psychological power over his wife, preventing her from stopping submitting herself to the sexual needs of customers who were sometimes very tough.’
The couple, who have been married for 10 years, were arrested last Tuesday, but only the man was charged with pimping, and faces a decade in prison.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3285500/Wife-forced-sex-2-700-men.html#ixzz3pO88HmKa
Man hospitalised after sex with friend’s wife
A 21-year-old man, in Ugbona Village, Ishieke Community, Ebonyi State, is now battling to stay alive after engaging in bout of sex with his friend’s wife.
The man, Orima Onyebuchi, was allegedly having affair with the woman until the last bout of sex, which landed him in hospital. Onyebuchi, a day after the last lovemaking session with the lady, started complaining of serious pain in his private part.
The pains became very serious, leading to his being rushed to hospitals in the area for treatment, including prayer houses.
But the sickness and pains persisted. In one of the prayer houses he was rushed to, Onyebuchi confessed that he had been having affair with his friend’s wife. The pastor advised him to confess the act to his friend, Friday Nwankwo.
Onyebuchi promptly confessed. After his confession, Onyebuchi was asked to provide N250, 000 to enable Nwankwo destroy the charm he planted on his wife’s body.
Nwankwo said: “I have been suspecting Onyebuchi and my wife for long. I got the charm from an herbalist to stop the relationship. Onyebuchi must give me N250, 000 if he wants to live!”
Sensing that Nwankwo was determined to allow their son to die, Onyebuchi’s parents offered N50, 000, which Nwankwo rejected. The parents have since frantically selling their household items to raise the money.
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