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.
And he dies over a forbidden ‘honey well’
Looking at it from a neural point, I guess I can understand how some women, married or otherwise, would find him attractive.
Forget the fact that he was my friend. I’m not one of those prejudiced women. I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me that Manny was a magnificent hunk of a guy. He was tall, dark complexioned and with muscles in all the right places. His tummy was so flat that you could see all the flat planes and probably be able to write a love poem on it.
He had a special way of barbing his hair and trimming his facial beard, which makes a girl want to tweak his cheeks. I’m not particularly one of those babes that like guys with beards, but I like guys who usually clean shave. I love the abrasiveness of the cheeks and chin as I caress.
Oh gosh, please don’t get me started on what it does to my….hummm…let’s not get carried away here, okay?
Some people claimed he died an ignoble death. But hey, what is that…death na death…there’s no good or bad death. The point is that you’re gone…yamutu…
I heard that Manny staggered home that fateful day, raving and ranting like a drunken idiot. He was full of noise and fury, but all signified nothing to his siblings. Before they knew it, he was burning up. They called a nurse, who quickly fixed him a drip. Manny had always been a strong guy. In fact, he was as strong as a horse. I bet that was why nobody suspected or believed that the strange sickness would defeat him.
He was in a fitful sleep, tossing and turning, muttering to himself, when his siblings quietly walked out of the room. Their mistake! Someone ought to have stayed and watched him. But they didn’t.
We later heard that neighbours were attracted and rushed out of their homes, when they heard a commotion. They saw Manny, barely in his boxers, rolling and jerking on the hard, dusty ground.
Right in front of their building. He was clutching his drip and muttering the name of a woman.
He was rushed to a nearby hospital. When his siblings came to pay him a visit, he told them to tell his mother that a woman killed him. He died after uttering such strange words.
Investigations by his family members revealed that the name of the woman he was muttering was a woman selling paraga (alcohol, mixed with roots) on their street. Though Manny was in his early thirties, the woman was quite older than him.
Everyone insisted that Manny’s death was a strange one. His family members were the zealots in this belief. They went in search of what killed Manny in his prime. They came back, but wouldn’t say or tell anyone their discovery. Everything was shrouded in secrecy.
It was however only a matter of time before we heard. Yes O! Magun! Of all things, who would ever had thought of Magun?
Further stories began to filter in. We heard that he and this paraga woman had been banging each other like dogs in heat for months abi na years?
Incidentally, the woman was supposed to be a happily married person. But she apparently didn’t see anything wrong in taking Manny every time to her matrimonial home and bed, to grease her honey well.
Manny was just like any other guy. They hardly shy or run away from free food, abi na awuf I go call such feminine delicacies? The bad thing about awuf be say e dey run or tear belle!
People gossiped and whispered that Manny had even chopped the woman more than the man that paid her bride price. How? Good question my dear friends. I also asked how? Abi the woman just wed her husband?
Nay! The truth was that anytime the man leaves home for office, Manny, jobless, would resume work. Jumping like antelope on every corner of the huge bed. He knew all the G spots on the woman’s body. Some bad belle people even claimed that they used to hear the woman, crying: “Give it to me hard! Give it to me Hard! No stop! Don’t stop! Bah Stop!”
Manny would throw her legs to angle 90 and start swimming…he would even go down on her. He would enter her dog style, taking all the time in the world. He liked the way she used to scream whenever she was coming…he liked the way she used to clutch his head, dragging it further into her honey well as she rotated her hips and thrashed around in bed, on the rug….Those her uncontrollable displays made him to feel macho, virile.
We no longer knew which of the story was true or fabricated. The fact however remained that they were banging each other blind. It seemed everybody knew of the affair except Manny’s family members and the woman’s mugu of a husband.
Once it was getting towards evening, the woman would take her paraga wares to the junction where she displays it. It was there that her husband will meet her after office hours, before heading home. Most times, he would wait for her, so that they could go home together.
Ironically, Manny most times used to be at this junction, sitting on the bench placed close to the wares, pretending to be one of the customers.
Perhaps the main attraction for Manny was the money the woman used to dole out to him. Just like she couldn’t resist the weapon of mass destruction between Manny‘s thighs, so also she couldn’t refuse him anything he asked or wanted from her. Na wa O!
I’ve tried to look at things from the angle of the woman and Manny…and the only thing that came to my mind was that Manny sabi hammer. Period!
True, I have never taken a peep into his trousers, but I can bet my best G-string pant that he would be largely endowed below there, if you know what I mean…apparently not just endowed, but also knew how to use his natural endowment…a guy after my heart…hummmm.
Some men are just too busy working round the clock, making money, to realise that their wives are endangered species where young, good looking studs are concerned.
Why, even if the young wife tried to be holy, holy, you’ll find these young, husky guys prowling round her like she was the best thing since sliced bread.
I wish all babes are like me…once a guy tells me he loves me, I always look for the catch. I mean, there has to be a catch somewhere if a guy tells an old, married, aging lady like me that he likes, loves me…I have to double check if he is unemployed.
Anyway, no fear of that…any guy that is stupid enough to come after me, believing I have money, will probably die of hunger. Don’t judge me by my cover, everything you see na cosmetics, shakara. I broke pass church cockroaches sef!
Hey, chill down…I know I’m digressing, but I’ll get to the story soon…there’s no need to bite my head off…ha! God, people are so impatient these days, why?
Anyway, as I was saying…we heard that the woman’s husband actually had a good job, yet the woman refused to stop selling paraga. What could be the reason for this? Your guess is as good as mine!
It was only a matter of time before busybody people told the husband that Manny was banging his wife. What could the man do? Confront and fight Manny? Beat his wife to pulp? Or break all her wares and force her to stay at home? He didn’t do any of this.
Rather he placed Magun on his wife and it killed Manny!
End of a scintillating love affair!
They said that Manny’s family members went to different places to verify what killed him and all came back with the same result: Magun.
They took time to check out the woman…shhhhhhhhhhhh (Yes, I hissed), I heard she was not even pretty. At least she was not worth dying for. She was even bleaching her skin!
You won’t believe this…the woman and her husband are still married! Did I remember to tell you guys that Manny was the only male child in a family of five children? Yeah, I know bro…saddening…I can feel you….
There are many who do not believe in the power and existence of Magun, their mistake. It exists and its efficacy rate is very high. Husbands are using it every day on the wives they suspect to be unfaithful.
So when next you start panting after and salivating over that married woman, remember there might be Magun on her.
No! No! It’s not only wives it works on. I have heard stories where ordinary boyfriends, who were just dating a babe, had placed Magun on her. Most times the wife or girlfriend, might be innocent. When it comes to jealousy, no man or woman is reasonable.
Jealousy is a dangerous emotion. Don’t be caught in its web. It can rule and compel you to kill!
Forget the fact that he was my friend. I’m not one of those prejudiced women. I didn’t need a soothsayer to tell me that Manny was a magnificent hunk of a guy. He was tall, dark complexioned and with muscles in all the right places. His tummy was so flat that you could see all the flat planes and probably be able to write a love poem on it.
He had a special way of barbing his hair and trimming his facial beard, which makes a girl want to tweak his cheeks. I’m not particularly one of those babes that like guys with beards, but I like guys who usually clean shave. I love the abrasiveness of the cheeks and chin as I caress.
Oh gosh, please don’t get me started on what it does to my….hummm…let’s not get carried away here, okay?
Some people claimed he died an ignoble death. But hey, what is that…death na death…there’s no good or bad death. The point is that you’re gone…yamutu…
I heard that Manny staggered home that fateful day, raving and ranting like a drunken idiot. He was full of noise and fury, but all signified nothing to his siblings. Before they knew it, he was burning up. They called a nurse, who quickly fixed him a drip. Manny had always been a strong guy. In fact, he was as strong as a horse. I bet that was why nobody suspected or believed that the strange sickness would defeat him.
He was in a fitful sleep, tossing and turning, muttering to himself, when his siblings quietly walked out of the room. Their mistake! Someone ought to have stayed and watched him. But they didn’t.
We later heard that neighbours were attracted and rushed out of their homes, when they heard a commotion. They saw Manny, barely in his boxers, rolling and jerking on the hard, dusty ground.
Right in front of their building. He was clutching his drip and muttering the name of a woman.
He was rushed to a nearby hospital. When his siblings came to pay him a visit, he told them to tell his mother that a woman killed him. He died after uttering such strange words.
Investigations by his family members revealed that the name of the woman he was muttering was a woman selling paraga (alcohol, mixed with roots) on their street. Though Manny was in his early thirties, the woman was quite older than him.
Everyone insisted that Manny’s death was a strange one. His family members were the zealots in this belief. They went in search of what killed Manny in his prime. They came back, but wouldn’t say or tell anyone their discovery. Everything was shrouded in secrecy.
It was however only a matter of time before we heard. Yes O! Magun! Of all things, who would ever had thought of Magun?
Further stories began to filter in. We heard that he and this paraga woman had been banging each other like dogs in heat for months abi na years?
Incidentally, the woman was supposed to be a happily married person. But she apparently didn’t see anything wrong in taking Manny every time to her matrimonial home and bed, to grease her honey well.
Manny was just like any other guy. They hardly shy or run away from free food, abi na awuf I go call such feminine delicacies? The bad thing about awuf be say e dey run or tear belle!
People gossiped and whispered that Manny had even chopped the woman more than the man that paid her bride price. How? Good question my dear friends. I also asked how? Abi the woman just wed her husband?
Nay! The truth was that anytime the man leaves home for office, Manny, jobless, would resume work. Jumping like antelope on every corner of the huge bed. He knew all the G spots on the woman’s body. Some bad belle people even claimed that they used to hear the woman, crying: “Give it to me hard! Give it to me Hard! No stop! Don’t stop! Bah Stop!”
Manny would throw her legs to angle 90 and start swimming…he would even go down on her. He would enter her dog style, taking all the time in the world. He liked the way she used to scream whenever she was coming…he liked the way she used to clutch his head, dragging it further into her honey well as she rotated her hips and thrashed around in bed, on the rug….Those her uncontrollable displays made him to feel macho, virile.
We no longer knew which of the story was true or fabricated. The fact however remained that they were banging each other blind. It seemed everybody knew of the affair except Manny’s family members and the woman’s mugu of a husband.
Once it was getting towards evening, the woman would take her paraga wares to the junction where she displays it. It was there that her husband will meet her after office hours, before heading home. Most times, he would wait for her, so that they could go home together.
Ironically, Manny most times used to be at this junction, sitting on the bench placed close to the wares, pretending to be one of the customers.
Perhaps the main attraction for Manny was the money the woman used to dole out to him. Just like she couldn’t resist the weapon of mass destruction between Manny‘s thighs, so also she couldn’t refuse him anything he asked or wanted from her. Na wa O!
I’ve tried to look at things from the angle of the woman and Manny…and the only thing that came to my mind was that Manny sabi hammer. Period!
True, I have never taken a peep into his trousers, but I can bet my best G-string pant that he would be largely endowed below there, if you know what I mean…apparently not just endowed, but also knew how to use his natural endowment…a guy after my heart…hummmm.
Some men are just too busy working round the clock, making money, to realise that their wives are endangered species where young, good looking studs are concerned.
Why, even if the young wife tried to be holy, holy, you’ll find these young, husky guys prowling round her like she was the best thing since sliced bread.
I wish all babes are like me…once a guy tells me he loves me, I always look for the catch. I mean, there has to be a catch somewhere if a guy tells an old, married, aging lady like me that he likes, loves me…I have to double check if he is unemployed.
Anyway, no fear of that…any guy that is stupid enough to come after me, believing I have money, will probably die of hunger. Don’t judge me by my cover, everything you see na cosmetics, shakara. I broke pass church cockroaches sef!
Hey, chill down…I know I’m digressing, but I’ll get to the story soon…there’s no need to bite my head off…ha! God, people are so impatient these days, why?
Anyway, as I was saying…we heard that the woman’s husband actually had a good job, yet the woman refused to stop selling paraga. What could be the reason for this? Your guess is as good as mine!
It was only a matter of time before busybody people told the husband that Manny was banging his wife. What could the man do? Confront and fight Manny? Beat his wife to pulp? Or break all her wares and force her to stay at home? He didn’t do any of this.
Rather he placed Magun on his wife and it killed Manny!
End of a scintillating love affair!
They said that Manny’s family members went to different places to verify what killed him and all came back with the same result: Magun.
They took time to check out the woman…shhhhhhhhhhhh (Yes, I hissed), I heard she was not even pretty. At least she was not worth dying for. She was even bleaching her skin!
You won’t believe this…the woman and her husband are still married! Did I remember to tell you guys that Manny was the only male child in a family of five children? Yeah, I know bro…saddening…I can feel you….
There are many who do not believe in the power and existence of Magun, their mistake. It exists and its efficacy rate is very high. Husbands are using it every day on the wives they suspect to be unfaithful.
So when next you start panting after and salivating over that married woman, remember there might be Magun on her.
No! No! It’s not only wives it works on. I have heard stories where ordinary boyfriends, who were just dating a babe, had placed Magun on her. Most times the wife or girlfriend, might be innocent. When it comes to jealousy, no man or woman is reasonable.
Jealousy is a dangerous emotion. Don’t be caught in its web. It can rule and compel you to kill!
My wife is promiscuous, husband tells court
A senior civil servant in the employment of the Ondo State Government, has approached an Akure Customary Court, sitting at Oke-Eda,Akure, for dissolution of his 17-year-old marriage with his wife, alleging she was promiscuous.
The husband, Chief Adedayo Ojo,said he was sick and tired of the marriage. The wife, Mrs Ebunoluwa, said Ojo was an irresponsible husband, stressing that he neither cared for his children nor performed his role as husband in the house.
Ojo told the court that he had on several occasions, caught his wife with different men in his matrimonial home.
The man further said that his wife was in the habit of keeping late nights without minding her status as a married woman and a mother.
Ojo added: “My wife lacks courtesy and respect. My wife instigated and brainwashed our three children against me. I can no longer exercise control over my home.”
Ebunoluwa said that she regretted marrying Ojo, who told her that he had two wives before he married her, only for her to later discover that he had eight wives.
That she relies solely on her uncle and other relatives for survival. She told the court that all the men her husband alleged were her concubines, were labourers she used to work with.
The President of the court, Mrs Olayinka Falodun, ruling on the case, admonished the complainant to perform his expected responsibilities, especially towards his children.
Falodun urged the defendant to give due respect to her husband for peace to reign at home.
She further ruled that both parties should bring each two of their relatives to court in the next day of adjournment.
She added that the petitioner should pay N2, 000.00 to the court for upkeep of their three children starting from today, together with their school fees. Falodun, adjourned the case till Nov. 4 for continuation.
The husband, Chief Adedayo Ojo,said he was sick and tired of the marriage. The wife, Mrs Ebunoluwa, said Ojo was an irresponsible husband, stressing that he neither cared for his children nor performed his role as husband in the house.
Ojo told the court that he had on several occasions, caught his wife with different men in his matrimonial home.
The man further said that his wife was in the habit of keeping late nights without minding her status as a married woman and a mother.
Ojo added: “My wife lacks courtesy and respect. My wife instigated and brainwashed our three children against me. I can no longer exercise control over my home.”
Ebunoluwa said that she regretted marrying Ojo, who told her that he had two wives before he married her, only for her to later discover that he had eight wives.
That she relies solely on her uncle and other relatives for survival. She told the court that all the men her husband alleged were her concubines, were labourers she used to work with.
The President of the court, Mrs Olayinka Falodun, ruling on the case, admonished the complainant to perform his expected responsibilities, especially towards his children.
Falodun urged the defendant to give due respect to her husband for peace to reign at home.
She further ruled that both parties should bring each two of their relatives to court in the next day of adjournment.
She added that the petitioner should pay N2, 000.00 to the court for upkeep of their three children starting from today, together with their school fees. Falodun, adjourned the case till Nov. 4 for continuation.
I only inserted my finger into her vagina, says angry corporal accused of defiling 3yr old
A police corporal, serving at Ugbodo Division in Ebonyi Local Government Area of Ebonyi State, shocked residents in his area after admitting to have inserted a finger into the private part of a three-year-old girl.
The corporal, Mr Samuel Okere, admitted to have violated the girl, but angrily said he didn’t insert his manhood, only his ‘finger.’
He promptly offered the victim’s parents N50, 000 to quell the matter, but they rejected his offer.
Okere committed the act in Ugbodo at the victim father’s house when she returned from school. The victim’s parents had gone for their teaching jobs when the police officer allegedly pounced on the nursery 2 pupil.
When the parents returned from work, the little girl started complaining of pains in her private part. The parents noticed that she couldn’t walk properly.
Worried, her father, Mr Emmanuel Iyiekuna, asked what was wrong with her. The girl told her dad that the policeman inserted something into her private part.
Iyiekuna rushed to Okere’s house and confronted him. The corporal admitted committing the crime, insisting that it was only his finger he inserted into her private part, not his manhood.
He appealed to Iyiekuna not to disclose the matter to anyone and offered him N50, 000 to take care of the victim. The girl’s dad rejected the money.
Iyiekuna later took his child to a nearby clinic where after examining the girl, a nurse told him that the girl’s hymen had been broken.
In anger, the man went and reported the matter to the State’s Family Law Centre, a special court in charge of treating such cases.
At the court, the suspect denied having carnal knowledge of the girl. The chairman of the court, Mrs. Elizabeth Nwali, petitioned the State’s Commissioner of Police, CP Peace Ibekwe, over the matter, calling for intervention and investigation. As at press time, Okere had been arrested for interrogation.
The corporal, Mr Samuel Okere, admitted to have violated the girl, but angrily said he didn’t insert his manhood, only his ‘finger.’
He promptly offered the victim’s parents N50, 000 to quell the matter, but they rejected his offer.
Okere committed the act in Ugbodo at the victim father’s house when she returned from school. The victim’s parents had gone for their teaching jobs when the police officer allegedly pounced on the nursery 2 pupil.
When the parents returned from work, the little girl started complaining of pains in her private part. The parents noticed that she couldn’t walk properly.
Worried, her father, Mr Emmanuel Iyiekuna, asked what was wrong with her. The girl told her dad that the policeman inserted something into her private part.
Iyiekuna rushed to Okere’s house and confronted him. The corporal admitted committing the crime, insisting that it was only his finger he inserted into her private part, not his manhood.
He appealed to Iyiekuna not to disclose the matter to anyone and offered him N50, 000 to take care of the victim. The girl’s dad rejected the money.
Iyiekuna later took his child to a nearby clinic where after examining the girl, a nurse told him that the girl’s hymen had been broken.
In anger, the man went and reported the matter to the State’s Family Law Centre, a special court in charge of treating such cases.
At the court, the suspect denied having carnal knowledge of the girl. The chairman of the court, Mrs. Elizabeth Nwali, petitioned the State’s Commissioner of Police, CP Peace Ibekwe, over the matter, calling for intervention and investigation. As at press time, Okere had been arrested for interrogation.
Okada rider and the boobs’ magic (2)
He told me all sort of things he could buy me if only I could accept to go out with him that day.
Shit! Talk of one nightstand!
He promised me things that even if he sold the bike, he still wouldn’t have been able to afford.
One of those pretty ladies that came to The Sun for their industrial attachment just told me now that she had discovered after careful investigation that Okada riders shy away from picking male passengers.
Some of them will tell you that ladies pay more because they don’t work for the money. It’s a lie!
They just want to feel those boobs bouncing and heaving at every plunge as they speed away.
I heard, but the Lord knows, have not yet seen…I heard that some of them have been known to have swayed some babes with the power of their sugar coated tongues and laid the babes that same day. Ha!
I was told they gauge the receptiveness of babes to their advances by the amount of their back pressure against her boobs. Once she doesn’t complain, they know she’s theirs for the asking.
I heard there’re babes who simply get wet once their mango touches a manly back. I think they are sick! I try not to judge people but in this instance, I think such ladies badly need to see a psychologist.
Abi na psychiatrist dem need to see?
If not, she might do it with a mad man before she knows it. I can’t pretend to understand such ladies. I’m one of those ladies who simply get repulsed if a strange or an uninvited man touches my boobs.
Just as they get susceptible ladies, so also they get men.
Yeah! Men, are you surprised?
Please don’t be! This is Naija! One day, a handsome guy mounted a motorbike. He was a dish.
He has all muscles in their right places. You didn’t need a soothsayer to tell you that an ounce of fat on him would be a criminal offence.
He obviously had been killing himself in a gym somewhere.
As soon as he got behind, the also muscular and good-looking bike rider engaged him in a chatty conversation. As they entered potholes and gallops, the passenger’s manhood took on a life of its own.
He tried to control the slithering serpent, all to no avail. The stubborn snake just kept raising its head until it was biting the back of the Okada rider.
The rider smiled with satisfaction. When he didn’t complain about the hardness trying to bore hole into his jean-clad buttocks, the passenger knew he had found someone of like mind with him.
Homosexuals!
The rider didn’t get to the destination of his passenger before he asked the man if he would like to stop at his place for a chilly bottle of beer. He naturally said yes.
Why, he was dying to ask the same question. They got to the rider’s home and tore into each other like there was no tomorrow. After the imperial act, they went their separate ways without some much as: “Let me have your phone number.” Wow!
The first time I heard this story, I was stunned. If you doubt it, you probably don’t live in our world. In this world anything is possible.
Was it not in Nigeria that something wonderful happened?
I was not born back then but a sage in my village told me the story. He said once in the western part of Nigeria, a child was born without a head. Our scientists did all they could to keep the child alive and finally succeeded in providing him with an artificial coconut head.
He later became the President of Nigeria. I believed it. In Naija, anything is possible.
In a nutshell, don’t be hoodwinked by those Okada riders as they enter potholes. You now know what they want or what they are trying to do.
If any of them tries such nonsense, better warn the fool fast. But please don’t slap him; he might give you a return match!
Some do not know the difference between a man and woman.
If you like that manly back pressing hard against your boobs, best of luck to you!
I know that some of you babes hate my guts today for exposing your secrets delights. Too bad!
As for Mr. Okada rider, better stash a lady in your house for emergency roll in the hay or get married!
If you are married and still salivate over current taping from female passengers’ boobs, you need to have your head examined.
I have another solution for you though. If the hunger for boobs hits you, try to rush home as soon as possible. Quickly call Mama Peter into the room and grab her boobs as if your life depends on it!
Suckle for all you’re worth. Start with the left boob then proceed to the right.
Do it for 30 minutes. Yeah, 30 minutes of boobs suckling while nicely missing a lot of passengers as business hours roll by.
As you suckle, remember to be shouting: “God, let this dangerous lust for boobs pass over me. But not as I will, but as you will!”
Shout it 30 times. 15 for each breast.
It has never failed to work. Now remember, for it to work effectively, you mustn’t under any condition make love with the recipient of your tongue.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Yeah I know…I love you guys too!
OKADA RIDER AND THE BOOBS’ MAGIC (1)
An old piece; written in the heydays of commercial bike riders in Lagos State. I enjoyed writing it. Hope you’ll enjoy reading it.
I wouldn’t have believed that Okada riders derive some sort of perverse pleasure from ladies’ boobs pressed…nay…rubbing against their manly backs while they’re on motorbikes.
But I heard about it.
What the heck am I even talking about?
Hell! I witnessed it myself!
I was just at the Maza-Maza Bus stop, a stone’s throw from Mile 2, when I noticed a lady with a well-endowed milk factory.
She was about to mount one of those commercial bikes we call Okada. You know, there are times when some female endowment never ceases to amaze me. That day was one of such days.
I swear that Baba God must have had extra-buckets of milk lying fallow on the day that babe was created.
She had other Okada men at the park gawking!
She selected a bike rider and mounted as if she didn’t know her giant boobs were causing a riot.
It was the thumbs up other bike riders were furtively giving their colleague (the lucky Okada rider she picked) and the knowing winks that made me realised that these men see boobs hitting their back as a sort of a fringe benefit!
And just as was expected….as soon as the babe mounted the bike, the space between her boobs and the back of the guy shrunk to nothing. Even a pin couldn’t slide through…
At slightest gallop and bumps, you and I know what would happen.
I’ve also been a recipient of Okada man’s sly way of tapping current!
In my sort of job, I honestly don’t know what I would have done without Okada. I mounted one some days back.
He was a Hausa rider.
In as much as I tried to keep my tiny egg-size boobs far away from his encroaching back, the man always seemed to want to lean back further towards me.
And my boobs of course!
At a point, I placed my hand and bag in between his back and my precious boobs.
When I finally stepped down at my destination, he presented me with a poker face, while I glared angrily at him.
I was too embarrassed to say the least. I wanted to upbraid him but didn’t even know how or where to start.
Should I go, " Oga, why are you pressing your back against my breasts?"
Some of these Okada men are always looking for someone to trade insults with. Believe me, you had been the loser!
Hum! I wished I was blessed with big, fat buttocks. Oh yes, they like ogling fleshy female bakassi too.
But they dread picking owners of such heavy backyards as passengers.
The weight does terrible things to the tyres of their motorbikes! Ha! Ha! Ha!
For politeness sake, some of them would tell ‘sister fat ass,’ that the area she was heading was N100, instead of the normal N50.
They are simply saying no to her, in a diplomatic way.
I was going for a story one day in the hot scorching sun when I saw an Okada rider having a heated quarrel with a fat lady. Her boobs appeared ready to jump out of her armpits, where some of the excess flesh had sought solace from the enslavement of her brassier.
I didn’t know how the quarrel started but I was able to gather from the rider who was almost on the verge of breaking into tears that his tyres, which he pumped that very day, suddenly went flat after the lady mounted and they had ridden for only a few minutes.
The lady of course refused to accept fault. I couldn’t understand what the hell the man was making so much noise about.
I mean, he knew what he was in for when he picked her as a passenger.
The silly man probably wanted to tap some current! Yes, quote me!
Listen sisters, if you’re on a motorbike and the rider happens to enter a pothole, don’t take it for granted. The man may deliberately entered those potholes so that you would bounce on the bike and your boobs would jump up and down like craze, slamming against his happy and expectant back.
And when they increase speed while you are on the bike, don’t be fooled into thinking they are in a hurry to get you to your destination.
Nay, he just wants to feel your boobs pressing hard against him as you clutch him tightly in fear of falling off because of the speed.
Don’t get me wrong! I’m not saying that all Okada riders are into this nasty habit but a good number of them are simply lascivious.
Living for the thrills for the moment?
My thing is this: “If you can’t touch it, why even bother to enjoy the feel of it?"
My dear, Okada men are Ashawo! Visit any Okada park and see if the discussion does not revolve around a woman and her vital statistics.
Moreover, they have become the king in the slums. They get paid every day and think they’ve arrived. Once he gets a motorbike he can ride, babes will come crawling all over him like bee over honey.
But shoes get size ojare! Just as babes have choices.
Men and babes also have categories. I once believed that babes in fact do have categories until I saw two clean babes… kai!
They were fighting over an Okada rider in Bariga!
Can you beat that? Fighting over an Okada man of all people!
Okada men have toasted me several times.
Some of them would stupidly wave off their fare, forgetting that they still have to deliver their daily money to the owners of the motorbikes.
I remembered the day one tracked me down to my place of work. It was more galling because he happened to be dating someone who respected me very much.
His elder brother just bought him the sparkling motorbike and the fool thought Juliana Francis was the first babe he should impress.
To be continued
I wouldn’t have believed that Okada riders derive some sort of perverse pleasure from ladies’ boobs pressed…nay…rubbing against their manly backs while they’re on motorbikes.
But I heard about it.
What the heck am I even talking about?
Hell! I witnessed it myself!
I was just at the Maza-Maza Bus stop, a stone’s throw from Mile 2, when I noticed a lady with a well-endowed milk factory.
She was about to mount one of those commercial bikes we call Okada. You know, there are times when some female endowment never ceases to amaze me. That day was one of such days.
I swear that Baba God must have had extra-buckets of milk lying fallow on the day that babe was created.
She had other Okada men at the park gawking!
She selected a bike rider and mounted as if she didn’t know her giant boobs were causing a riot.
It was the thumbs up other bike riders were furtively giving their colleague (the lucky Okada rider she picked) and the knowing winks that made me realised that these men see boobs hitting their back as a sort of a fringe benefit!
And just as was expected….as soon as the babe mounted the bike, the space between her boobs and the back of the guy shrunk to nothing. Even a pin couldn’t slide through…
At slightest gallop and bumps, you and I know what would happen.
I’ve also been a recipient of Okada man’s sly way of tapping current!
In my sort of job, I honestly don’t know what I would have done without Okada. I mounted one some days back.
He was a Hausa rider.
In as much as I tried to keep my tiny egg-size boobs far away from his encroaching back, the man always seemed to want to lean back further towards me.
And my boobs of course!
At a point, I placed my hand and bag in between his back and my precious boobs.
When I finally stepped down at my destination, he presented me with a poker face, while I glared angrily at him.
I was too embarrassed to say the least. I wanted to upbraid him but didn’t even know how or where to start.
Should I go, " Oga, why are you pressing your back against my breasts?"
Some of these Okada men are always looking for someone to trade insults with. Believe me, you had been the loser!
Hum! I wished I was blessed with big, fat buttocks. Oh yes, they like ogling fleshy female bakassi too.
But they dread picking owners of such heavy backyards as passengers.
The weight does terrible things to the tyres of their motorbikes! Ha! Ha! Ha!
For politeness sake, some of them would tell ‘sister fat ass,’ that the area she was heading was N100, instead of the normal N50.
They are simply saying no to her, in a diplomatic way.
I was going for a story one day in the hot scorching sun when I saw an Okada rider having a heated quarrel with a fat lady. Her boobs appeared ready to jump out of her armpits, where some of the excess flesh had sought solace from the enslavement of her brassier.
I didn’t know how the quarrel started but I was able to gather from the rider who was almost on the verge of breaking into tears that his tyres, which he pumped that very day, suddenly went flat after the lady mounted and they had ridden for only a few minutes.
The lady of course refused to accept fault. I couldn’t understand what the hell the man was making so much noise about.
I mean, he knew what he was in for when he picked her as a passenger.
The silly man probably wanted to tap some current! Yes, quote me!
Listen sisters, if you’re on a motorbike and the rider happens to enter a pothole, don’t take it for granted. The man may deliberately entered those potholes so that you would bounce on the bike and your boobs would jump up and down like craze, slamming against his happy and expectant back.
And when they increase speed while you are on the bike, don’t be fooled into thinking they are in a hurry to get you to your destination.
Nay, he just wants to feel your boobs pressing hard against him as you clutch him tightly in fear of falling off because of the speed.
Don’t get me wrong! I’m not saying that all Okada riders are into this nasty habit but a good number of them are simply lascivious.
Living for the thrills for the moment?
My thing is this: “If you can’t touch it, why even bother to enjoy the feel of it?"
My dear, Okada men are Ashawo! Visit any Okada park and see if the discussion does not revolve around a woman and her vital statistics.
Moreover, they have become the king in the slums. They get paid every day and think they’ve arrived. Once he gets a motorbike he can ride, babes will come crawling all over him like bee over honey.
But shoes get size ojare! Just as babes have choices.
Men and babes also have categories. I once believed that babes in fact do have categories until I saw two clean babes… kai!
They were fighting over an Okada rider in Bariga!
Can you beat that? Fighting over an Okada man of all people!
Okada men have toasted me several times.
Some of them would stupidly wave off their fare, forgetting that they still have to deliver their daily money to the owners of the motorbikes.
I remembered the day one tracked me down to my place of work. It was more galling because he happened to be dating someone who respected me very much.
His elder brother just bought him the sparkling motorbike and the fool thought Juliana Francis was the first babe he should impress.
To be continued
My mum gave me expo on Calabar girls’ sexual prowess
I was just gisting with my friend, Tosin.
I told her that I remembered vividly how mother called and advised me to be careful with the sort of friends I keep.
Mother was specifically worried that I was becoming too comfy with my friend, Comfort. Comfort is a bombshell, drop dead gorgeous Calabar babe.
Mother is not educated. Nay, but she was keenly interested in education. When she wanted to attend school, her father stopped her. He said her education would end in her husband’s kitchen. Thus she went nowhere, than from her father’s home to my father’s kitchen.
But she’s my mother.
Education or not, I must listen to her, no matter how weird I believe some of her suggestions to be.
So mother told me. I quote: “Don’t you ever make friends with Calabar girls! They’re dangerous!”
“In what way mama,” I asked, truly perplexed.
“Just don’t make friends with them. If you make friends with them, don’t take them to the home of the man you’re engaged to be married.”
The conversation was getting weirder by the minutes. I looked more puzzled than enlightened. If she was going to get me to be careful of something, she ought to do better than that.
“Why? What happened?”
“Listen to me! Don’t ever take a Calabar girl to even your boyfriend’s house! She’ll snatch him from you! They don’t care about people’s feelings. Their parents trained them from cradle on how to bang. If they get your man, forget it, he’ll never come back to you or even look at you again!”
Did you just burst into laughter? Yes O! Exactly what I did!
Wow! Listen to mother, telling me about sex! Mother does not belong to the categories of mother who are comfortable discussing sex with their kids. In fact, if not that she’s dark skinned, you’d find her blushing at the mention of sex.
I still remembered the day I asked her if she used to kiss father hungrily before they make love. You could have heard a pin drop. By the way, mother should be in her eighties now!
Back to today’s discussion.
Mother went to my father’s home a virgin and never knew or tasted any other guy’s sugar stick. Go figure!
Truth be told, mother had never liked any person from Cross River State. For a long time, I didn’t know why. But I knew that whatever happened to make her detest Calabar babes runs more than skin deep.
I’ve a way of worming things out of people. I discovered that talent while I was on National Youth Service Corps scheme in Jigawa State. I was a sounding board for everyone and anybody having relationship troubles. Apparently, whatever I tell them to do seem to work.
Anyway, I wormed the story out of mother. It was sad, it was tragic and it affected her psychologically. It was a tragic play that had three central characters. Mother, father and a sultry, beautiful, supposedly deceitful Calabar lady, whom mother thought, was her best friend. That’s not the story for today shai!
Anyway, as I was telling Tosin the story, I thought she would laugh as hard as I was laughing but she refused to join.
According to her, I should go and thank my mother for giving me expo on Calabar girls.
I looked at her, shocked.
“Do you really believe that Calabar girls steal men from friends?”
“Yes!” snapped Tosin.
She said she was speaking from experience.
Another colleague of ours, chipped in: “Calabar ladies seemed to know everything. They know how to cook and how to…”
Tosin is going to tell me what happened to her. But she’s busy now.
My friend, Comfort, and my boyfriend actually went behind locked doors after mother’s advice.
I never knew about it until my boyfriend told me. Yes, I was shocked but I was not broken. He told me that they only romanced and fingered.
Nothing catastrophic, like he entering or foraging into her holy of holies happened. He said he only wanted to prove a point to me. That Comfort had the hots for him and was always deriding him in front of me because of her desires.
Did I believe him?
Like I had a choice…yeah, for my peace of mind, I believed him. And I didn’t stop being friends with Comfort.
What am I driving at?
It’s utter rubbish to assign a disreputable behaviour to a certain tribe.
This was why I mentioned mother’s educational background. Mother’s emotion is laced with aged old anger over a certain Calabar lady and her lack of education did not help her belief and situation.
When she narrated her experience to her cronies, they had not disabused, rather they told her that was how Calabar babes used to behave.
They are deadlier than green snakes under the green grasses, they claimed.
Anybody, either male or female, could snatch your lover, irrespective of the tribe or state the person comes from.
It’s more of an individual trait, than a tribal thing. I have heard tons of stories, where Igbo, Hausa, Edo, Kogi, Yoruba, amongst other girls from other states, snatching friends’ husbands, lovers and fiancés.
Narrowing it down to just Calabar girls seems myopic to me. How is it possible that babes who are still in cradle are taught how to bang and pleasure a man? I don’t believe it! But mother does. I know she meant extremely young girls, not toddlers, but I still won’t buy it.
Ladies, men, pick up sexual experiences as they grow. It’s part of growing up. I don’t think any parent has the time to start teaching his son or daughter the rudiment of banging.
If you feel Calabar girls know how to cook and bang better than you, and thus you’re scared, you better go and learn how to bang and cook. Or else you would be psychologically damaged, living in fear that someone would take your guy.
Let’s look at the subject matter in another way.
If your guy is snatched, don’t you think you should see it as good riddance to bad rubbish?
A guy, who is ready and willing to bang your friend, doesn’t respect you. You shouldn’t shed a single tear over such an idiot.
In fact, you should thank you Calabar friend, for pulling the wool off your eyes!
If he can cheat on you with your friend, rest assure that he’ll cheat on you even after you guys have exchange marriage vows and said, ‘I do.’
True, you’ll feel hurt, betrayed and stabbed. You’ll feel a gasping, bleeding hole in the region of your heart. But the pains wouldn’t be there forever. Take each day as it comes. And one day, you’ll ask yourself, “What the hell did I see in him anyway?”
Bottom-line: don’t allow your fear to eat you up. It ate mother and makes her have a sickening phobia for Calabar babes.
Don’t allow your fear of what friends tell you or things you hear or believe to cripple you. Calabar girls are not created to snatch your man.
They’re just like you and I. Searching for attention, affection and love from the right guy.
Why, even your blood sister can snatch your guy! Mothers have been known to snatch their daughters’ husbands.
All you need to do is to pray and shine your eyes.
If he’s your guy, fated to be your husband, he wouldn’t allow himself to be ‘snatched,’ by any female, no matter how beautiful the lady in question is…no matter how well she can dance makosa on his manhood and make him scream in wild pleasure. If he’s yours, he’ll come home. Home is where the heart is!
I told her that I remembered vividly how mother called and advised me to be careful with the sort of friends I keep.
Mother was specifically worried that I was becoming too comfy with my friend, Comfort. Comfort is a bombshell, drop dead gorgeous Calabar babe.
Mother is not educated. Nay, but she was keenly interested in education. When she wanted to attend school, her father stopped her. He said her education would end in her husband’s kitchen. Thus she went nowhere, than from her father’s home to my father’s kitchen.
But she’s my mother.
Education or not, I must listen to her, no matter how weird I believe some of her suggestions to be.
So mother told me. I quote: “Don’t you ever make friends with Calabar girls! They’re dangerous!”
“In what way mama,” I asked, truly perplexed.
“Just don’t make friends with them. If you make friends with them, don’t take them to the home of the man you’re engaged to be married.”
The conversation was getting weirder by the minutes. I looked more puzzled than enlightened. If she was going to get me to be careful of something, she ought to do better than that.
“Why? What happened?”
“Listen to me! Don’t ever take a Calabar girl to even your boyfriend’s house! She’ll snatch him from you! They don’t care about people’s feelings. Their parents trained them from cradle on how to bang. If they get your man, forget it, he’ll never come back to you or even look at you again!”
Did you just burst into laughter? Yes O! Exactly what I did!
Wow! Listen to mother, telling me about sex! Mother does not belong to the categories of mother who are comfortable discussing sex with their kids. In fact, if not that she’s dark skinned, you’d find her blushing at the mention of sex.
I still remembered the day I asked her if she used to kiss father hungrily before they make love. You could have heard a pin drop. By the way, mother should be in her eighties now!
Back to today’s discussion.
Mother went to my father’s home a virgin and never knew or tasted any other guy’s sugar stick. Go figure!
Truth be told, mother had never liked any person from Cross River State. For a long time, I didn’t know why. But I knew that whatever happened to make her detest Calabar babes runs more than skin deep.
I’ve a way of worming things out of people. I discovered that talent while I was on National Youth Service Corps scheme in Jigawa State. I was a sounding board for everyone and anybody having relationship troubles. Apparently, whatever I tell them to do seem to work.
Anyway, I wormed the story out of mother. It was sad, it was tragic and it affected her psychologically. It was a tragic play that had three central characters. Mother, father and a sultry, beautiful, supposedly deceitful Calabar lady, whom mother thought, was her best friend. That’s not the story for today shai!
Anyway, as I was telling Tosin the story, I thought she would laugh as hard as I was laughing but she refused to join.
According to her, I should go and thank my mother for giving me expo on Calabar girls.
I looked at her, shocked.
“Do you really believe that Calabar girls steal men from friends?”
“Yes!” snapped Tosin.
She said she was speaking from experience.
Another colleague of ours, chipped in: “Calabar ladies seemed to know everything. They know how to cook and how to…”
Tosin is going to tell me what happened to her. But she’s busy now.
My friend, Comfort, and my boyfriend actually went behind locked doors after mother’s advice.
I never knew about it until my boyfriend told me. Yes, I was shocked but I was not broken. He told me that they only romanced and fingered.
Nothing catastrophic, like he entering or foraging into her holy of holies happened. He said he only wanted to prove a point to me. That Comfort had the hots for him and was always deriding him in front of me because of her desires.
Did I believe him?
Like I had a choice…yeah, for my peace of mind, I believed him. And I didn’t stop being friends with Comfort.
What am I driving at?
It’s utter rubbish to assign a disreputable behaviour to a certain tribe.
This was why I mentioned mother’s educational background. Mother’s emotion is laced with aged old anger over a certain Calabar lady and her lack of education did not help her belief and situation.
When she narrated her experience to her cronies, they had not disabused, rather they told her that was how Calabar babes used to behave.
They are deadlier than green snakes under the green grasses, they claimed.
Anybody, either male or female, could snatch your lover, irrespective of the tribe or state the person comes from.
It’s more of an individual trait, than a tribal thing. I have heard tons of stories, where Igbo, Hausa, Edo, Kogi, Yoruba, amongst other girls from other states, snatching friends’ husbands, lovers and fiancés.
Narrowing it down to just Calabar girls seems myopic to me. How is it possible that babes who are still in cradle are taught how to bang and pleasure a man? I don’t believe it! But mother does. I know she meant extremely young girls, not toddlers, but I still won’t buy it.
Ladies, men, pick up sexual experiences as they grow. It’s part of growing up. I don’t think any parent has the time to start teaching his son or daughter the rudiment of banging.
If you feel Calabar girls know how to cook and bang better than you, and thus you’re scared, you better go and learn how to bang and cook. Or else you would be psychologically damaged, living in fear that someone would take your guy.
Let’s look at the subject matter in another way.
If your guy is snatched, don’t you think you should see it as good riddance to bad rubbish?
A guy, who is ready and willing to bang your friend, doesn’t respect you. You shouldn’t shed a single tear over such an idiot.
In fact, you should thank you Calabar friend, for pulling the wool off your eyes!
If he can cheat on you with your friend, rest assure that he’ll cheat on you even after you guys have exchange marriage vows and said, ‘I do.’
True, you’ll feel hurt, betrayed and stabbed. You’ll feel a gasping, bleeding hole in the region of your heart. But the pains wouldn’t be there forever. Take each day as it comes. And one day, you’ll ask yourself, “What the hell did I see in him anyway?”
Bottom-line: don’t allow your fear to eat you up. It ate mother and makes her have a sickening phobia for Calabar babes.
Don’t allow your fear of what friends tell you or things you hear or believe to cripple you. Calabar girls are not created to snatch your man.
They’re just like you and I. Searching for attention, affection and love from the right guy.
Why, even your blood sister can snatch your guy! Mothers have been known to snatch their daughters’ husbands.
All you need to do is to pray and shine your eyes.
If he’s your guy, fated to be your husband, he wouldn’t allow himself to be ‘snatched,’ by any female, no matter how beautiful the lady in question is…no matter how well she can dance makosa on his manhood and make him scream in wild pleasure. If he’s yours, he’ll come home. Home is where the heart is!
What’s the big deal if she’s older than you?(2)
My dear man,
I just don’t understand you. You’re completely overlooking the essence of marriage. Do you love this lady enough to spend the rest of your life with her? Does she loves and respect you?
If she does crazy things to your heart beat whenever you hear her voice or footsteps, then she’s probably the one for you.
I read your mail and I fail to see any problem with your family.
I see only you! You’re the serpent in your own paradise.
You don’t seem to be sure you love her enough to want to jettison the issue of age and walk down the aisle with her.
She’s 31 and you’re 29. What is the significance in that age difference? Nothing!
Your mail is filled with holes. It’s like a puzzle, demanding I solve it. Your narration is conflicting.
You said your family loves her. Then in the same breathe, you lied to your family about her age. If they love her, why the heck would they give a crap about her age?
Have you even bothered to share your fears with her? Or are you just stringing her along?
If you love her as you claim, you wouldn’t be bothered about the two-year-age difference.
Love, my guy, is a crazy game! When cupid zeroed in on you, you’re a goner because you’ll never escape his arrow and the pains and pleasure that it comes with. Once you’re in love, you do crazy things and take crazy decisions. Indeed, some people will even say the babe in question used black magic on you.
Love can burn you if you handle it badly. But it’s a burnt you’d give anything to experience.
Take me for instance; I’ve known love. I handled it badly and it flees. Today, I yearn for it.
In this instance sir, I strongly feel that your feeling is what you need to decipher.
If you love her, you’d marry her. But by starting your relationship on a foundation of lies, you’re storing heartache in the barn. The castle in the air will crumble too soon.
I’ve always believe that in marriage, it’s the feelings of the lovers that matters. You’re not marrying your mother or family…you’re marrying a lady/guy. It’s your life. And how it turns out, will always be your call.
Take her today to your parents, look them in the eyes and tell them that she’s actually 31 and that you don’t care.
Tell them you’re going to marry her no matter what. If as you claimed, they already love her, then I don’t see the problem.
She’s 31 doesn’t mean she can’t ball you the right way, does it?
That she’s 31 doesn’t mean she can’t make a good wife or make you happy.
Life is short, especially once you’re married. If an older woman will make you happy, grab her!
There’re several men who married women who are older than them. A lady or guy’s age has nothing to do with having a successful marriage or relationship.
What is the worst thing that can happen if your family discovers her real age? Ask yourself that question. And tell yourself how you’d handle it.
Most importantly, If you’re not convinced about your love for her…you’re not sure of a tomorrow with her…better let her go.
True, you may break her heart, but soonest, a guy who knows her worth, will waltz into her heart and make her his woman.
I can’t pretend to understand men like you.
Men, who leave life-changing decisions to their parents or siblings.
Such a guy is often tied to their mother’s apron string. They make terrible husbands. They run to mummy always. They lack balls!
Do you belong to that category of men?
I see life/marriage as a stage. Our parents have played out their part on the stage…the curtain has been drawn…the next actor is you.
If you’re kid, your parents will wipe your running nose and clean your bruises, but once you’re a full man…you stop running to mummy and daddy.
This is why we have this paradox: The boy is the father to the man.
Better you make decisions yourself, so that when it succeeds or fails, you blame or praise yourself.
If you make the decision to marry someone, you’ll give the relationship everything you’ve got. After all, it was your choice. You live with it!
If your parents make the decision for you, you’ll forever blame them for every twist and turn in that relationship.
The ball is in your court. You got to take the shot!
I just don’t understand you. You’re completely overlooking the essence of marriage. Do you love this lady enough to spend the rest of your life with her? Does she loves and respect you?
If she does crazy things to your heart beat whenever you hear her voice or footsteps, then she’s probably the one for you.
I read your mail and I fail to see any problem with your family.
I see only you! You’re the serpent in your own paradise.
You don’t seem to be sure you love her enough to want to jettison the issue of age and walk down the aisle with her.
She’s 31 and you’re 29. What is the significance in that age difference? Nothing!
Your mail is filled with holes. It’s like a puzzle, demanding I solve it. Your narration is conflicting.
You said your family loves her. Then in the same breathe, you lied to your family about her age. If they love her, why the heck would they give a crap about her age?
Have you even bothered to share your fears with her? Or are you just stringing her along?
If you love her as you claim, you wouldn’t be bothered about the two-year-age difference.
Love, my guy, is a crazy game! When cupid zeroed in on you, you’re a goner because you’ll never escape his arrow and the pains and pleasure that it comes with. Once you’re in love, you do crazy things and take crazy decisions. Indeed, some people will even say the babe in question used black magic on you.
Love can burn you if you handle it badly. But it’s a burnt you’d give anything to experience.
Take me for instance; I’ve known love. I handled it badly and it flees. Today, I yearn for it.
In this instance sir, I strongly feel that your feeling is what you need to decipher.
If you love her, you’d marry her. But by starting your relationship on a foundation of lies, you’re storing heartache in the barn. The castle in the air will crumble too soon.
I’ve always believe that in marriage, it’s the feelings of the lovers that matters. You’re not marrying your mother or family…you’re marrying a lady/guy. It’s your life. And how it turns out, will always be your call.
Take her today to your parents, look them in the eyes and tell them that she’s actually 31 and that you don’t care.
Tell them you’re going to marry her no matter what. If as you claimed, they already love her, then I don’t see the problem.
She’s 31 doesn’t mean she can’t ball you the right way, does it?
That she’s 31 doesn’t mean she can’t make a good wife or make you happy.
Life is short, especially once you’re married. If an older woman will make you happy, grab her!
There’re several men who married women who are older than them. A lady or guy’s age has nothing to do with having a successful marriage or relationship.
What is the worst thing that can happen if your family discovers her real age? Ask yourself that question. And tell yourself how you’d handle it.
Most importantly, If you’re not convinced about your love for her…you’re not sure of a tomorrow with her…better let her go.
True, you may break her heart, but soonest, a guy who knows her worth, will waltz into her heart and make her his woman.
I can’t pretend to understand men like you.
Men, who leave life-changing decisions to their parents or siblings.
Such a guy is often tied to their mother’s apron string. They make terrible husbands. They run to mummy always. They lack balls!
Do you belong to that category of men?
I see life/marriage as a stage. Our parents have played out their part on the stage…the curtain has been drawn…the next actor is you.
If you’re kid, your parents will wipe your running nose and clean your bruises, but once you’re a full man…you stop running to mummy and daddy.
This is why we have this paradox: The boy is the father to the man.
Better you make decisions yourself, so that when it succeeds or fails, you blame or praise yourself.
If you make the decision to marry someone, you’ll give the relationship everything you’ve got. After all, it was your choice. You live with it!
If your parents make the decision for you, you’ll forever blame them for every twist and turn in that relationship.
The ball is in your court. You got to take the shot!
What’s the big deal if she’s older than you? (1)
Good day dear colleague. Hope you are good? Anyway, I need you to help me on this. My girlfriend is 31 and I will be 29 in February. I have been with her for eight months now. We have a healthy relationship. I have taken her to my family and they love her, but my fear now is the age difference.
I like this girl and I would love to be with her for so many reasons. My family doesn’t know that she is older than me. Although she told my mum she is 31 when we visited for my elder sister's wedding. When my mum asked me, I told her she was 26. Now what do I do about her age? Personally, I don't care about her age. I am just a little bit upbeat about what my family will say if they find out she is older. What's your take on this?
9iroud
To be continued
I like this girl and I would love to be with her for so many reasons. My family doesn’t know that she is older than me. Although she told my mum she is 31 when we visited for my elder sister's wedding. When my mum asked me, I told her she was 26. Now what do I do about her age? Personally, I don't care about her age. I am just a little bit upbeat about what my family will say if they find out she is older. What's your take on this?
9iroud
To be continued
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