Prudence in the Jungle

One of the most prudent things you should do for yourself in Nigeria today is keeping out of trouble. One of the worst things that can happen to a person is to be sent to jail in Nigeria.

Jail in Nigeria is halfway house to hell. Maryam Sanda will probably never be executed, most Governor’s do not sign the death warrant anymore. Orji Kalu Uzor will probably never serve full-time.

But still Nigerian prisons are like Nazi concentration camps. The food is calamitous, healthcare is none existent.

I have seen a prisoner holding his eye ball in his hand, it was still attached to his eye socket by a tendril. Someone used a spoon to scoop out his eye ball in a fight. The nurse was off duty. Nobody cared, he died.

I had a client once who was remanded in prison. He was HIV positive and did not tell me. Maybe that would have been further grounds for bail. He could not take his drugs and he relapsed. Before I could try to get him out it was too late, he died.

The food given to prisoners is not fit for human consumption, even animals should not be made to eat such rubbish. Meanwhile, huge sums of money has been budgeted for feeding prisoners.

Avoid trouble, infact, flee from trouble. Anything that will involve police charging you to court is trouble. If you can kill a matter in the police station, by all means do it. Stop shouting,

“I know my right!”

This is Nigeria. Your right and left can change anytime.

Police will definitely ask for big money, if you have it and you suspect your case is not very solid kill the matter there. Even if you think you have a good case, this is Nigeria.

If your lawyer is shouting,

“we will meet in court!” in Police station tell him to calm down.

It is your case, not his. The use of “we,” is merely figurative. He will not stand in the accused box with you.

Remember, it is not what you know that matters in court, it is what you can prove. Besides, this is Nigeria. Ihedioha can testify.

I was attacked once by a pedestrian in Lagos. The car I was inside brushed him slightly. I was not the one driving. I just told him to be more careful.

That is how the guy attacked me. He threw 4 punches, I blocked two and dodged two.

I had the opportunity to counter punch but I did not. I am not Anthony Joshua. A police man eventually stopped him. I quickly removed myself from the scene.

I was happy enough I was not going home with a broken jaw, neither was I being charged for assault. Sometimes it is better to let some things go.

I do not mean that you should turn to everyone’s foot mat, but if you are going to take up an issue, ensure you are blameless, or almost blameless.

Avoid wahala. If people are beating up a thief do not join, or even stand and watch, even if it is your property that was stolen.

If someone hits your car don’t start fighting because of that.

Do not lend people money. It hardly ends well.

Do not surety people you don’t absolutely trust.

Avoid too much night movement, and partying and clubbing.

Avoid people who cannot control their alcohol, they always start brawls.

Realize that a bad situation can always get worse, or better, depending on how you handle it.

Avoid people who talk too much.

Be wary with your speech. Do not talk about people behind their backs.

Always assume that someone is recording your speech and videoing your actions.

Even if someone comes with negative gossip about another person, do not say anything. If you talk, it is what you said that will somehow find its way to the person’s ear.

Stop saying things like,

” Do you know who I am?”

“I no dey fear anybody!”

“My yes is my yes and my no is my no!”

Finally, remember to keep your anger and ego in check, the world does not revolve around you, it revolves around the sun 🌞. Copied.

WEDDED WITS

You will love this COPIED Story

A woman went shopping. At the cash counter, she opened her purse to pay.

The cashier noticed a TV remote in her purse.

He could not control his curiosity and asked

“Do you always carry your TV remote with you?”

She replied “No, not always, but my husband refused to accompany me shopping today because of football match, so I took the remote.”

Moral: Accompany and support your wife in her hobbies….

The story continues…

The cashier laughed and then returned all the items that lady had purchased.

Shocked at this act, she asked the cashier what he was doing.

He said, “Your husband has blocked your credit card.”

MORAL: Always respect the hobbies of your husband.

Story continues….

Wife took out her husband’s credit card from purse and swiped it. Unfortunately he didn’t block his own card.

Moral: Don’t underestimate the power and wisdom of your WIFE..

Story continues…

After swiping, the machine indicated, ‘ENTER THE PIN SENT TO YOUR MOBILE PHONE’

Moral: When a man tends to lose, the machine is smart enough to save him!

Story continues….

She smiled to herself and reached out for the mobile which rang in her purse.

It was her husband’s phone showing the forwarded SMS.

She had taken it with the remote control so he doesn’t call her during her shopping.

She bought her items and returned home happily.

Moral: Don’t underestimate a desperate woman!

Story continues….

On getting home, his car was gone.

A note was pasted on the door

“Couldn’t find the remote. Gone out with the boys to watch the premiership match. Will be home late. Call me on my phone if you need something”.

Damn… He left with the house key too.

*Moral: Don’t try to control your husband.
You will always lose.

USA vs IRAN: WWIII postponed

By Ahmed Yahaya JoeWhy I am not bothered about the present escalation of tension in the Middle East? Well to start with according to Carl von Clausewitz,

“War is the continuation of politics by other means”

War is also big business for the military industrial complex and not me. My primary concern is therefore the Nigerian economic outlook in 2020 because I barely scraped through 2019. To me what is happening between the US and Iran is as clear as mud as Aubrey Bailey puts it:

“Are you confused by what is going on in the Middle East? Let me explain. We support the Iraqi government in the fight against Islamic State (IS) We don’t like IS, but it is supported by Saudi Arabia, whom we do like. We don’t like President Assad in Syria. We support the fight against him, but not IS, which is also fighting against him. We don’t like Iran, but Iran supports the Iraqi against IS. So, some of our friends support our enemies and some of our enemies are our friends, and some of our enemies are fighting against our other enemies, whom we want to lose, but we don’t want our enemies who are fighting our enemies to win. If the people we want to defeat are defeated, they might be replaced by people we like even less. And all this was started by us invading Iraq to drive out terrorists who weren’t actually there until we went in to drive them out. Do you understand now?”

Simply put Bailey is reminding us of the initial US justification of invading Iraq to search for “weapons of mass destruction” and topple Saddam Hussein that was based on “Known knows, known unknowns and unknown unknowns”
I also find the following narrative highly instructive:“Alexander the Great marched into the Middle East graveyard about 2,500 years ago. Easy to march in, hard to march out. His words. He and his mother wrote to each other all the time. One day, he got a letter from her saying: “What the hell? You conquered most of the known world in a day and a half, what are you doing bogged down there?” He grabbed a bag and shoveled it full of dirt and had it sent back to Greece with a message to his mother: “Take this dirt and dump it around the palace, see what happens.” So Alexander’s mother spread the dirt all around the palace. Later that night, a couple of attendants showed up to make sure she was alright. One says: “Go ahead, after you.” And the other says: “No, after you.” And the first one says: “No, I insist.” And the second one says: “Don’t you tell me what to do.” They pull their swords and go at it till they kill each other. Alexander’s mother watched all this and wrote a note to him saying: “Okay, okay, now I get it.” And he wrote back saying: “Even the dirt is hostile, dogs fight dogs, birds fight birds, men kill men”In conclusion, life can be summarized in just 3 words:

It goes on.

If the world survived the First and Second World Wars why wouldn’t it survive a Third?

👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻👆🏻US automated missle defense system that defended the 2 American bases in Iraq.
3000 rounds per minute of crazy scary precision. About 10 missles were killed on arrival.

MY SECRET SIN

Anonymous author

That Friday night, I was supposed to be in the vigil leading the worship song but there I was in Fred’s bed moaning in painful pleasure as he cuddled and caressed me.

Being the choir mistress, I was the one to take the worship songs that night but I manoeuvred my way to his home.

“Can we go another round?” Fred asked teasingly.

“You don’t get tired? Oliver Twist,” I said staring at the wall clock. It was few minutes before 1 a.m.

“I need to join them in the church,” I said uncovering myself from the bedsheets and hurriedly picked up my dress from the floor.

“It’s already late and dangerous out there. Just pass the night here again please.”

“Akuna! It’s better late than never. Don’t forget, I’m the one taking the worship.”

“Do you want to get raped out there? The one I gave you is not enough for you, right?” he asked mockingly as he sat upright on his bed placing a pillow on his laps to hide his erected stuff.

“I won’t get raped because we are going together. Dress up please.”

“Have you gone insane?” he giggled. “I just finished feasting with the devil and you expect me to go to the presence of God? Come on babe, I still have conscience.”

“What are you insinuating? Are you saying I don’t have conscience? Thank you for reminding me that I’m Jezebel.” I said trying to ease the guilt.

I hurriedly picked my Bible and my scarf from the floor and dashed out of the room.

“Onyeche, wait let me see you off,” I heard his voice from a distance.

That was not the first night I spent in his house in the name of vigil, neither was it the second nor third.

You may think that was the worst thing I have done. No, I did worse than that. I aborted two babies for Fred, the assistant prayer band leader who was always leading the prayer section.

My father who was a well thought of elder in the church was glad that her daughter was burning for God.

I was not just deceiving my father, I was deceiving the members of the church, I was deceiving the pastor whose favourite I was.

Never had he ministered without me acting as the backup singer. He trusted and believed so much in me. And above all, I was deceiving myself as my self-worth was dwindling.

When I got to the church, Agnes was still leading the praise section.

It seemed she was stylishly waiting for my arrival to take the worship section as I was considered to be the most fire-branded member of the church.

As the choir mistress, I was supposed to be seated at the front seat, but I sat behind so that my incoming would not be noticed.

I glanced through the pulpit, the pastor’s gaze was on me and I trembled within as he signaled an invitation.

“Onyeche, what happened?” he asked affectionately.

“Daddy I slept off,” I lied kneeling beside him without any iota of the fear of God.
“I wanted to rest before time but when I woke up, it was already very late. I told myself that it’s better late than never.”

“I know you ‘ll come regardless what. Thank you,” he said smiling and patting me on my shoulder. “Hope you are prepared.”
“I’m always prepared daddy.”

Right at the pulpit I was confidently lying to the man of God. Yet, unlike the days of Peter, there was no discernment, I would have fallen dead like Ananias and Sapphira but there, I was being praised.

Like the pastor’s praise was not enough, when I climbed the podium, I was welcomed with a standing ovation by the congregation. They yelled and shouted my name. Others jumped to their feet shouting and clapping. My head was becoming larger like I was sharing the glory of God with him, that’s if I did not steal it all. Had they known that I just left Delilah’s lap, or maybe I was even the Delilah. Had they known I just left the dungeon of sin, just like the lady of Magdalene, they would have picked up stone.

I struck the mic with a finger and the sound was pleasant to my hearing.

“Alleluuuuuuuia!” I shouted into the mic, stressing my word and the crowd yelled even louder.

“Can we just compose ourselves as we worship the El shaddai, the Elohim, The King of kings, the Lord of lords, the I am that I am, mandalekatushaldaba,” I burst into tongue. “The Bible says, God is a Spirit and they that must worship God must worship Him in spirit and in truth.”

As I was trying to elate the crowd, I saw Fred enter the church. Well built, muscular and light in complexion. Like the Biblical Joseph, very handsome and good to behold. I still doubt if I were the only one in the church he was having an affair with. Many of those young girls flopped around him calling him papa and M.O.G.

He was also very much adored and loved in the church because of his activeness yet, my partner in sin.

“Close your eyes and lift up your hands unto the Lord as we worship him.”

As I began to sing deeper, those emotional tears began to pour from my eyes.

Some of the people were also singing and crying while others were blasting in tongues.

I glanced at Fred, with hands akimbo, he was shaking and nodding his head in all direction as though he was translated to another realm.

His voice was louder than every other person. It seemed he was trying to tell them that he prayed in tongue more than any of them as he seldom pray in the language of men.

It may surprise you to know that Fred was not the only person I was sleeping with.

I did those abominable acts outside the church too. I was scared that my evil deeds would one day be exposed if I involve other members. So, whenever those decent boys in my church asked my out, even for a serious relationship, I will politely turn them down preaching the gospel to them. Telling them how it’s going to affect our relationship with God but there was never a no from me to the outsiders: the fallen brethren as they will never be in my church to see me pray or sing.

You see eh! You would want to blame me for this hypocrisy of the highest order. Go ahead. Judge me, condemn me. Cast the first stone but remember, you didn’t die for me. It is Christ that died. Yes, it is God that justifies.

You may think I did not feel sad for myself. You may think I loved what I was doing.

No, to me, it was also disgusting. It made me look so dirty like a pig. It made feel like I did not belong to the family of the true children of Jesus Christ.

I have judged myself enough, so you don’t have to judge me again. If there’s anything to do, it’s to pray for me because secretly, I was dying.

Just like the church of Sardis, I had the reputation of being alive but I was dead. Yes, I had the reputation of being vibrant and burning for God but I was on my way to hell.

You may think I was not born again. Well, I was genuinely born again.

I spoke in the tongues of angels, I’ve received the gift of the Holy Spirit, yet, I was swimming in sin.

On Facebook and other social media, I was an apostle of holiness as I never ceased preaching and posting scriptures on my wall. My WhatsApp status was always preaching Christ but my lifestyle was contrary to the faith.

Apostle Paul said that he’s the worst of all sinners. I don’t want to drag that position with Elder Paul but one thing is certain, nobody can drag the second slot with me.

My situation became critical when I became addicted to sex. Sex became my driving force.

I was always happy during weekly fellowship as it was the only opportunity to visit Fred before heading to church together.

After fellowship, we’d return to his home for more fun before he would see me off.

When I could not make it to Fred’s home, I resorted to masturbation.

There was no single day passed by without me masturbating as I began to find it more pleasurable than sex.

Even on Sunday morning, before service, I would masturbate at home before handling the microphone on the pulpit to lead the praise and worship.

Don’t think I ever felt comfortable at the pulpit.

I hated myself for what I was doing. I only needed a way out of my predicament.

I was always kneeling at the front of the altar for every altar call. But that same evening, I would be in my room thrusting myself with cucumber.

I have gone days without food and water in the name of fasting but to no avail.

You see! Haven’t I tried?

You that want to judge me, how many days have you gone fasting and praying for your own secret sin? Or do you want to tell me that you’re not battling with any private sin?

Man may not be watching you but God watches everything that happens even in the most secret place.

So, please don’t judge me. I understand hypocrisy already. Or have you not read that you should get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye?

Oh young minister, put yourself right with God first and then we can sit down and talk judgment.

There was this day I rounded off my seven days fasting and prayer. I made up my mind never to see Fred again, never to masturbate again and never to see any guy again.

My determination worked perfectly well for weeks but after a month, I found myself in Fred’s bed again.

Pathetic, right? Very pathetic indeed. Fred shouted at me with rage and almost hit me for keeping him for a whole month without sex.

He threatened to quit the relationship but I begged with tears. The only thing that calmed him down was when I promised to spend the night with him instead of going to the vigil.

When it was dawn, I carried my Bible and went home. I did not just return to Fred, I returned to my old way of life.

For years, I continued living such a wayward and bitter life until one particular night.

After satisfying my inordinate desire, I picked up my Bible as usual and began to flip through its pages just to fulfill all righteousness and ease the guilt I was feeling.

I read several pages randomly. The urge to study that night was stronger than the urge for masturbation, even stronger than the urge for sex.

I continued reading carelessly until I came across Psalm 145:18-19.

I read it over and over, then over and over and over and over. For more than a dozen time, I was reading just these two verses.

I read it until it sank so deeply to my innermost being.

As I continued reading, tears began to well up in my eyes.

These were not the emotional tears I used to shed at the pulpit. These were tears I even tried to control but couldn’t.

When my Bible was getting soaked, I closed it and dropped it on my bed.

The next thing that happened was mysterious. I found myself on the floor, rolling, crying and praying.
“Lord, it’s either now or never. I die here tonight.

“Tonight, I bring into captivity every thought and fleshly pleasure to the obedience of Christ.

“My strength, my ability, my will, my wisdom, everything has failed me. It’s just you now oh Lord.

“Lord, may I never see the rising of the sun again until I’m delivered from every devourer.

“Lord Jesus, except you want me to die in my sin, you will deliver me tonight.”

I knew I was disturbing my parents and probably, neighbours but my problem was bigger than one sleepless night.

I thought I was disturbing my parents, but it didn’t take much time before I heard them blasting in tongues from their room.

That night, I didn’t sleep. Even when I wanted to sleep, I could not. I prayed till dawn then slept off.

When I woke up, it was around 9 a.m. I switched on my phone and it was Fred’s message that came in.

Gud mrning lov,
D tot of U cudn’t allow
me sleep last 9t.
I mesmerized ova ur
beauty & ur magical
touch till dawn.
Wherever U ar is
exactly where I wnt 2 b
I’ve wasted too much
time already.
I dnt wnt 2 waste
anoda single day
without U & I’m ready 2
make it up 4 d lost
time.
Baby do U mind
comin ova later in d
day?
I no U wudnt mind.
I love U. Expecting U
dear, kisses.

I stared at my phone a bit confused if to reply or not. After a second thought, I pulled off my sim card and broke it into pieces.

“I’m starting afresh,” I murmured. And as if pushed by an external force, I opened my drawer. I stared at the cucumbers and the toys I bought and shame overwhelmed me. Slowly, I began to break everything. “I’m done with you,” I spoke to the toy as though it could hear. “I’m done with sin,” I continued talking to myself.

As I searched my room thoroughly for all the instruments of sin, a song came to my lips.

I’m no longer a slave
To sin (fear),
I am a child of God.

I sang only the chorus for hours reminding myself who I’ve become.

Days rolled into weeks and weeks into months, I did not go to Fred’s home neither did I do anything stupid.

I thought of Fred several times and the urge came powerfully sometimes. Of course, I’m human.

The urge was there but the power and grace to overcome was stronger.

I would stare at the mirror and applaud myself for not going back to the way it used to be.

I would use my right hand to shake my left hand in jubilation congratulating myself.

I still remember when I took myself out on a date. Funny, isn’t it? That’s what we called self-crush.

You may think I over acted. I don’t really mind.

You will never know what it is like to be free until you have found freedom in Christ Jesus. I am sure you will celebrate more than I did.

One of the mistakes the devil made was that he still allowed me to fellowship with the brethren even in my sin.

He still allowed me to pray and study even after committing those evil acts.

If he was wise, he would have cut me off from the gathering of the brethren.

Had he known, he would have sealed my lips from praying to God who was actually waiting for me to call upon Him.

And because he was not all knowing, he couldn’t stop me from praying and he couldn’t have ever stopped God from answering my prayer.

After three months, I found myself in Fred’s house again.

I was surprised too because I thought I’d never go there again but it’s like I was compelled.

No! It’s not what you are thinking. Haba na! I did not go alone. I went with the Most High. I went to offer him Christ.

I stood at the door feeling reluctant to knock. After a while, I did.

He opened the door and was surprised to see me. He stood at the door confused whether to let me in or not. We stood in total silence staring at each other.

After awhile, I broke the silence, “Fred, I’m….”

“No! No! No!” he cut in. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he said emphatically. I should be the one apologising.

“Onyeche, I’m sorry, it’s over between us.”
“Over?” I asked faking the surprise just to hear more.

“Please forgive me Onyeche, you’re now my past.”

“Fred, what happened? Did I do anything wrong?” The woman in me wouldn’t tell him the reason I visited. I wanted to feed my curiosity.

“No Onye, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that I have found true love.”

“Fred will never change,” I chuckled. “Is that why you couldn’t even welcome me in? Is she inside?”

“Nobody is in,” he said paving the curtain to give me a better view of the room.

“You mean your love for me was never true? Where did I get it wrong Fred?” I enquired just to hear his opinion because from onset, I knew we were into an illicit love affair that will lead to nowhere except hell.

“Onyeche, I must confess, you were not my first love. I left my first love for you. I thought I could hold on to both of you at a time but it’s never possible. I’ve decided to return and start all over again with my first love.”

“Hmm! Who could that be Fred? You told me you love me and promised never to let me go.”

“This love is different from what I felt for you then,” he said confidently exuding great joy.

“This love is genuine. This love is pure. This love doesn’t fail. This love has covered my past and given a future. This love is shed abroad in my heart.” He was nodding his head as he spoke with total peace.

“Onyeche,” he called placing his hands on my shoulders. “I HAVE FOUND TRUE LOVE IN CHRIST JESUS. I have returned to my first love. Onyeche, there is no better love than the love of Christ. There is no love outside Christ. What have we gained from the sin we called love? What has fornication added to our lives? Why not give this love a chance to find its expression in your life?”

The joy I felt in my spirit knew no bounds when I heard those words from Fred.

“Fred, this love is what brought me here. This love found me some months back. I came here just to offer you this love but I’m overwhelmed with joy to know that this love has found you too. This is miraculous.”

“It is the Lord’s doing,” he said. “Do you mind coming in?” he added leading the way.

“No, I don’t mind,” I replied as I followed from behind.

This time around, I was not on his bed. We knelt beside his bed in prayer thanking God for His unfailing love, amazing grace and His undeserved mercy.

I was dead, and now alive again; I was lost, and found.

I am Onyeche, I only exist in
#Adogasimagination.

DEDICATION
To all those in the church of God but still struggling with one sin or the other.

Don’t just relax in that sin. Hold on to Christ for a little while.

He is more interested in helping you than you are interested in helpinghelping yourself. Just one more prayer and you will see the handiwork of God.

Remain blessed. See a good follow up to that choir mistress story. Thank God that she repented, anyway.

We can speak in tongues and miss heaven.
We can win souls and miss heaven.
We can see vision and miss heaven.
We can prophesy and still miss heaven.
We can cast out devil and miss heaven.
We can perform miracles and still miss heaven.
We can read the whole Bible and miss heaven.
We can attend all church services, fellowship activities and camp meetings and miss heaven.
We can have anointing and miss heaven.
We can have all spiritual gifts and miss heaven.
We can be rich, prosperous and wealthy and still miss heaven.
We can give and sow seeds and still miss heaven.
We can wield power and be influential and still miss heaven.
We can have a powerful voice to sing and miss heaven.
we can also have fame and popularity and miss heaven.
•••But we cannot LIVE A HOLY LIFE and miss heaven•••
HOLINESS IS THE REAL DEAL!
Without holiness through salvation in Christ, one will not make heaven.

Forwarding this is Evangelism.
Let us win a soul for Christ.

*COPIED*

An Economic Sermon

By Kalu Aja

In the Bible, we read an interesting story of Spiritualism, Economics and Trade.

God speaks to Egyptian President by giving him a strange dream of lean cows eating fat cows.

Alarmed the Egyptian President summoned his Intelligence Agencies, his Cabinet and Special Assistants on Religious Affairs, all his top Advisers, but noone could decipher the message in the dream.

Then an Adviser previously in EFCC custody remembered a former inmate who was very good in analysis of data. He tells Mr President who summons Joseph. Joseph shaves, wears a nice suit and goes before the President. Joseph hears the data from the President, & responds;

A. There will be an oil boom that will increase the wealth of the Egyptian Government. The Government will make a lot of money for 7 years.

B. Then after 7 years, the oil boom will end and the world will enter a recession.

At this point, Joseph is now giving his own advise to the President.

Joseph tells the President;

“Set up a Sovereign Wealth Fund, save 25% of the oil wealth for those 7 boom years. Look for a man, discrete & wise to act as Chief Economic Adviser to implement the plan”

What Joseph did here was to identify the problem, give a solution, and then offer himself a pathway to becoming a man “discrete and wise” to implement the solution he advised.

Pharaoh agreed, made Joseph Chief Economic Adviser of the Federation. As recession swept across the world, Egypt became the center of the world, all nations came to Egypt to trade, Egypt became richer, Joseph became a Super Minister

The End

What is the lesson of this story?

1. President: You’re only as good as the Advisers your surround yourself with.

2. Pastors, its not enough to give prophesies, if God revels something to you, He will also give you an interpretation with clear dates & solutions, Prophecy without direction is useless.

3. Entrepreneur, referrals will make or break your business. Joseph was referred to the President by a client he “traded” with when he just a startup, treat your early customers like kings.

4. As a Person, Educate yourself. Joseph gave the “Spiritual”, but then followed up with the “Economic”. keep learning.

5. The Economy; every economic boom is followed by a recession, every recession creates opportunities for people that prepared during the recession.

In the Universe; there is no such thing as luck in wealth generation. it’s always planned. noone is lucky.

Egypt became wealthy because they stored grain for 7 years and became a trading post.

Dubai, Rwanda, Ethiopia and Singapore are today’s Egypt.

x

@FinPlanKaluAja1

Sex For Grades: The Known and Unknown

If you haven’t seen the recently viral BBC News Africa documentary ‘Sex for Grades’ then look it up before you continue reading:

Sex For Grades (Documentary)

THIS WRITE UP IS NOT A RESPONSE TO THE DOCUMENTARY, NEITHER IS IT AN IMPLIED QUERY. IT IS A GUIDED CONTRIBUTION TO THE LOUD PRETENTIOUS OVERTURES THAT FOLLOWED THE DOCUMENTARY’S RELEASE.

I’m going to make this write up as brief as possible, if that is possible for anyone documenting well over four decades of tertiary education life.

SO IF YOU ARE IN A RUSH, PLEASE SKIP ‘DISCLAIMER, & QUALIFICATION’. BUT YOU JUST MIGHT WANT TO READ THEM AGAIN AFTERWARDS.

IT IS YOUR PICK?

DISCLAIMER

I. IF YOU READ ABOUT ANYONE THAT REMOTELY RESEMBLES ANYONE YOU SUSPECT, DON’T BURST YOUR BALLS, IT’S THEM.

II. IF YOU DON’T WANT TO GET INSANELY ANNOYED, PUSH OFF.

III. IF YOU DON’T HAVE AN OBJECTIVE MIND & YOU WISH TO CRITICIZE WITH PREJUDICE, BRING IT ON.

IV. LASTLY, THE LECTURERS ALREADY CAUGHT & EXPOSED, PLEASE DON’T BOTHER READING THIS BECAUSE YOU’RE DESERVEDLY IN THE ABYSS OF SOCIAL MEDIA ENDLESSLY RETRIEVEBLE HISTORY.

I DON’T WANT YOU THINKING; “Why didn’t this fool put this up before now?” Then running off to kill yourself. ALL LIFE MATTER & GOD LOVES EVEN YOU TOO.

Just, maybe only HE might still love you now.

QUALIFICATION

Am I qualified to write about this?

You tell me?

I have; A combination of Thirteen years lecturing in six tertiary institutions in Northen Nigeria (mainly on part time basis), presently a senior Educational Administrator in a Health based tertiary institution.

I have; A cumulative period of just under twenty five years as a student at seven different Nigerian tertiary institutions studying programs leading to the award of Certificates, Ordinary/Higher/Post graduate Diplomas, Masters Degree. All these inclusive of those dropped, abandoned, completed & yet to be complete.

I have; Separately, Thirty seven plus years of visiting, living with and having endless discussions with very close lecturer friends, hanging around with, partying alongside, holidaying with, as my lecturers or my close friends or housemates or colleagues or relatives or in-laws. All of them with various levels of experience in the most diverse disciplines & professional callings.

I have; All my Fifty years of life time (thus far) lived in a family that lives & breathes tertiary education, with (as at the last count) all together; one of the oldest (still actively living) Professors in Northern Nigeria, Six times full tenure University Vice Chancellor (both within & out side Nigeria) Three PhDs, I don’t really know how many Masters degrees, we don’t have time & space here to list the number of first degrees & various assorted levels of diplomas & I haven’t the faintest idea how many undergraduates are still studying within & outside Nigeria. Most of whom I interact with continuiously.

Bottom line: I have lived, talked & walked Nigerian tertiary education all my literate life. To a large extend I know & have been part of the workings of Nigerian tertiary institutions for most of my life. And everybody knows that the core part of the tertiary education experience is the relationship between lecturers & all their many students; the young & old, the stupid & smart, the Good, the Bad & the Cute.

EXPERIENCE

After the roll of CV, I’ll limited this section to my experience with the opposite sex. (I apologize to the LGBT community because most folks don’t realize that when we say ‘oppposite sex’, we exclude other…. Hmmmmm, other sexes?)

So, by now you’ve worked out I am a Straight Male, about five decades old, considerably educated & someone who has been ‘all over the place’. And I mean ‘All Over The Place’. Don’t worry, you will work out what the expression means by the time you’re done with this section.

I have no romantic story of worth to tell from my secondary school days (Primary school was more eventful) But credit to me, I had put that woeful romantic experience to good use & scored a resounding distinction for unending effort. This experience taught me to talk my way out of every situation conceivable and as I ended my teen age, I perfected how to talk and endear my way into almost every cooperative female heart and in most instances, all the way beyond the depts of the female heart.

My romantic experience at the various tertiary institutions I was a student in was to say the least hyperactive & swinging. I will summarize it with this quote;

“THERE WERE NINE GIRLS IN MY PROGRAM CLASS AT ONE TIME AND I HAD THE SHAMEFUL RECORD OF SEPERATELY BEING ROMANTIC INVOLVED WITH ALL BUT ONE OF THEM IN ONE CALENDAR YEAR.”

I was more than just romantic with most of them. The level of coy & maneuvering that went into that feat was quite advanced and would make many war-time Generals envious. The single girl that got away escaped for two main reasons;

(1) I had saved her for last because she was always going to be the toughest nut to crack. The plan was to become ‘born again’ and join her church at the end.

(2) I ran out of time. The plan had worked out smoothly, we had become all brotherly and sisterly, started holding hands to and from places when time ran out.

THE RUB

I wasn’t your typical good looking lad, I was as black as soot & taller than a door. But I knew my positives and flaunted them.

I was a jock, played Basketball & football in the school teams, I was quite smart too. I solved calculus problems & explained complicated lecture notes, even those not of my immediate area of study.

I wasnt just at every party & live shows there was, I organized most parties and live shows.

I had my fill of the campus life. I was lord over the social life & called the shots. I was mindful that lots of my classmates & buddies in those days on campus couldn’t join in the rolling fun. They just didn’t measure up to the expectations of the girls back then. These were mainly the really smart ones. The Nerds, as Americans call them.

They either didn’t have the time, didn’t make the time, didn’t put in the effort, were shy, got discouraged or simply weren’t bothered for the social campus life way back then.

LET’S CONCLUDE

Here it comes:

Of the so many of the lecturers I have come across in my ‘Thirty seven plus years of visiting, living with and having endless discussions with very close lecturer friends, hanging around with, partying alongside, holidaying with, as my lecturers or my close friends or house mates or colleagues or relatives or in-law”, a whooping 75% of them were nerds. They said so or I know so.

Do my math too;

Off all the clear cut Nerds I went to school with, all those I can remember or kept in touch with or met again many years later or followed their progression through life, all but three are lecturers now. Two of the three are dead & the one, I last heard was walking the streets in Benin (South central Nigeria) picking up trash & mouthing nonsense, mad as a tornado.

Make up your own conclusions:

Of all these so many nerds I knew and related with, that all became lecturers, a resounding 90% have either had some kind of sexual related incident with a female student or have indicated the tendency to indulge in illicit romantic dealings with female students.

This will blow your away;

I watched the Sex for Grades documentary and there on the screen was one of the nerds in the stats offered above.

I’m not surprised I know one of them & if you’re still asking why, then start reading from the top again

© Yas Niger

Kaduna, Nigeria

October 2019

Future related reading & possible documentary subjects:

I. Whoring for Grades

II. Nigerain Culture of favour for favour

III. Qualities of a lecturer

CC

Kiki Mordi @kikimordi

BBC News Africa @BBCAfrica

#SexForGrades #BBCAfricaEye

The lessons of President Xi Jing Peng of China

I stumbled on this very enlightening titbit & thought lots could from it…. Enjoy!!

President Xi Jing Peng of China said:

“As a small child , I was very selfish, always grabbing the best for myself.

“Slowly, everyone left me and I had no friends. I didn’t think it was my fault and I criticized others. But my father gave me 3 sentences to help me in life.

“One day, my father cooked 2 bowls of noodles and put them on the table. One had an egg on top while the other bowl had none on top. Then he asked me to choose a bowl of noodles.

“Because eggs were hard to come by those days, I chose the bowl with egg! I was congratulating myself on my wise choice/decision and decided to wallop the egg. To my surprise, I saw that my father’s bowl of noodles had two eggs at the bottom beneath the noodles! With much regret, I scolded myself for being too hasty in my decision.

“My father smiled and taught me to remember that what your eyes see may not be true. He added that, If you make a habit of taking advantage of people, you will end up losing.

“The next day, my father again cooked 2 bowls of noodles: one bowl with an egg on top and the other bowl with no egg on top. Again, he asked to choose the bowl I wanted. This time, I felt smarter so I chose the bowl without any egg on top.

“Hmmmmmm to my surprise, there was not even a single egg at the bottom of the bowl! Again, my father smiled and said to me, My child, you must not always rely on experiences because sometimes, life can cheat you or play tricks on you. Never be too annoyed or sad, with situations, just treat experience as learning a lesson that cannot be gotten from any textbooks.

“The third day, my father again cooked 2 bowls of noodles, one bowl with an egg on top and the other with no egg on top. He asked me to choose the bowl I wanted. But this time, I told my father, Dad, you choose first. You are the head of the family and you contribute the most to the family.

“My father was very happy and he chose for me. He chose the bowl with one egg on top. But as I ate my bowl of noodles, to my surprise, there were two eggs at the bottom of the bowl. My father smiled at me with love in his eyes. He said,my child, you must remember that when you think for the good of others, good things will always naturally happen to you.

“I always remember these 3 sentences of my father.”

Xi Jing Peng

Girls at War: A Review

This a personal & non-academic review of Chinua Achebe’s Short story ‘Girls at War’. Originally done for a Whatsapp book discussion group but which I’ve been encouraged to share far & wide. The Short Story ‘Girls at War’ is from the collection of Nigerian civil war time short stories of the same title by Chinua Achebe.

Let’s start with the title, I have always had thing for titles.

Have you ever seen teenage girls fight? Well, if you have then simply multiply the confused, abusive, scratchy, revealing spectacle a few times over & you have ‘Girls at War’. Girls play dirty & fight crazy. Maturity & civility goes out the window. Fairness remains a distant past, order is lost completely, wisdom a mirage & a ‘strip tease’ a strong possibility, very much expected by amused bystanders, who watch with keen selfish interest.

Even those who step in to separate the Waring ladies will have their motives questioned, especially if they are male. (And in these modern days, even female ‘referees’ get their sexual preferences scrutinized also).

Who to grab, where to hold, what to say, to laugh or not, how to behave, self preservation, (dangerously essential for guys with their two very fragile natural passengers to worry about).

Now if you’re the poor fellow the warring girls are in battle over, you’re not on your own for nobody minds their business anymore. Everyone is in your face nowadays. Blaming everyone & you, for the ‘hurt’ girl is always right by default these days.

‘Who rules the world?’, don’t ask Beyonce, just read the tabloids. “That time done pass. Now everybody want (their say). They call it (free speech). You put your number six; I put my number six.
Everything (is) all right.”

Nigeria was at war with Biafra, is the setting of the story & Biafra was doing quite badly. War is the art of survival. Which of the the two sexes is most dexterous in the practicalities of survival? Girls are at War, perpetually.

The manipulation in daily living is survival, one that is sired in us from that maiden race down a ‘penish’ tube, as we aim to win the fertilization laurel & indirectly cause the demise of millions of our first ‘spermy’ peers.

This a story of changing priorities, of changing times & changing people surprising themselves & but not really altering stereotypes & established perceptions.

The first hint of romance is carried through, ’till death do them part’. The young Gladys clad in khaki, searching cars at a roadblock in the early days of the war, changed into a reluctant battle field for troops to ‘not march in’. The privileged intellectualism of Reginald Nwankwo of the Biafran Ministry of Justice is reduced to the pettiness of the pursuit of luxuries everywhere, that will end with ‘drilling his troops’ in Gladys’ ‘battle field’.

The war efforts had commenced with enthusiast children ‘who marched up and down the streets at the time drilling with sticks and wearing their mothers’ soup bowls for steel helmets.’ Alongside them was the jest of the likes of ‘the contingent of girls from a local secondary school marching behind a banner: WE ARE IMPREGNABLE!’

By the time Gladys & Reginald crossed paths for a third & final time, eighteen months of ‘Death and starvation’ had long
chased out the headiness of the early days.’

Amidst the lackness in
blank suicidal resignation of multitudes, Reginald towed Gladys along to a party with the better-off few feeding off the war. Those ‘who had no other desire than whatever good things were still going and to enjoy themselves to the limit. ‘But unlike these strange lot, normalcy had not returned to the rest of the world. ‘Girls became girls once more and boys boys,’ only in the parties of these priviledges few, as the world around them ‘was a tight, blockaded and desperate world.’

Living in these war days made
heads of stockfish & tinned meat a very privileged luxury and the likes of ‘the dreadful American stuff called Formula Two’ heaped on the populace by international relief bringers. Reginald’s contacts kept him within easy reach of a variety of relief stuffs like ‘rice, beans and that excellent cereal commonly called Gabon gari.’ He has an official car & a driver to ferry him through the land & a bomb shelter within reach of his home to weather the horrific fear of air-raids.

Reginald Nwankwo is fortunate and not one of ‘the starved scarecrow crowd of rags and floating ribs’, reduced ‘by the independent accusation of their wasted bodies and sunken eyes’ as they perpetually hung around relief centres, making crude, ungracious remarks like “War Can Continue!”

Reginald did the best he could to keep the clutches of kwashiokor out of the reach of his driver’s (Johnson) home by making sure that whenever he got sizeable supplies he gave some to Johnson, for his wife and six or
seven kids.

At one pound per cigarette cup in the market, Gari might as well be caviar for most ordinary folks. Something has to give & always did. Priorities changed & things like respect & sympathy lowered in standard, so much that only pretty girls get rides in staff cars, not begging old women.

When gentleman say to a pretty girl, ‘I broke my rule today to give you a lift. I never give lifts these
days”, it’s not love or fondness, it is good old sweaty panting lust. When a girl braves bomb raids on the road to a major city during a war & tells you ;“I am going to visit my girlfriend,” it’s good old fashioned survival hunting.

Gladys got the bush meat she came out for in a comfy bed, party fun, good food & scarce money. Reginald got the ‘match’ he wanted to win for a looooooooong time.

“But your family is not there with you?” “No,” he said. “Nobody has his family there. We like to say it is because of air-raids but I can assure you there is more to it. Owerri is a real swinging town and we live the life of gay bachelors.” “That is what I have heard.” Gladys heard the hunting is good in the Owerri metropolitan bush and she came to get lucky.

In a real swinging party hosted by a Lieutenant-Colonel, in the real fun of the moment, she saw someone better than Reginald and fell in-love with what she saw in a man for the first time in Owerri & as it turned out, for the last time. While Reginald was ashamed of himself, hating the parties and frivolities to which his friends clung like drowning men, Gladys found her mojo.

Still it was always about taking a girl home for the classy dude & Reginald was always a classic guy who wants to get the babe. ‘And this particular girl too, who had once had such beautiful faith in the struggle and was betrayed (no doubt about it) by some man like him out for a good time.’

This personified the entire story for me. Gladys is the ‘Girl at War’ with the circumstances she has found herself in & setting out to make the best of it. Just like a young controversial nation at war with the circumstances it found itselt & making a whole mess of it. And five decades later, that region of the nation is still making a mess of the politics of it, playing the blame game still.

Their last morning together, Reginald felt better as he saw Gladys as ‘a mirror reflecting a society that had gone completely rotten and maggoty at the centre. The mirror itself was intact; a lot of smudge but no more. All that was needed was a clean duster.’ One that is still being awaited over fifty years later. And like the bold Biafran experience, Gladys ventured to be bold & heroic at the moment that called for it. Like Biafra, she ended her in a monumental crash of her world in a charred, smoking and entangled remains of the girl and that didn’t what ‘troops to match’ in her insides.

Sadly, the story is a comical but romantic take on how wrong it could be when it feels so right, like fighting a war to regain the peace the war shattered.

Yas Niger

Kaduna, Nigeria

NIGERIAN DEMOCRACY DAY JOKE: JUNE 12TH

Buhari met with the Queen of England in London n asked her…How do you run such an efficient government here?
Are there any tips you can give to me? I want to help Nigeria.

QUEEN: The most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people.

Buhari: How do I know the people around me are really intelligent?

QUEEN: Oh, that’s easy. Just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle.
The Queen sent for Theresa May. Theresa May walked into the room,

MAY: Yes, your Majesty.
You sent for me.

QUEEN: Answer this riddle. Theresa, your mother and father have a child, it is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?”

MAY: Hmmm… that would be me.

QUEEN: Yes, very good.

When Buhari came back home he sent for Abba Kyari.

Kyari walk in to Buhari’s office.

Kyari : Sir you call me.

Buhari: Yes sit down and answer this; Your mother and your father have a child, it’s not your brother and it’s not your sister, who is it?

Kyari: I’m not sure, let me get back to you.
He asked all his staff in the office but none could give him an answer. Kyari then ran to Fashola.

Kyari asked: Your mother and father have a child and it’s not your brother or sister, who is it?”

FASHOLA: That’s easy. It’s me!

Kyari smiled and said, Thanks! Then he went back to speak with President Buhari.

Kyari: Sir, I have the answer to that riddle, It’s Babatunde Raji Fashola!

Buhari got angry, and said to Kyari; No wonder Nigeria isn’t moving forward, I am surrounded by dummies! The answer is… Theresa May!!!

A beg don’t laugh alone ..make someone laugh. A MERRY HEART DOETH GOOD LIKE A MEDICINE. Proverbs. 😀😂😄
COPIED…

FRIENDLY FOES: A World of Sentiments

Strangest explosion rocks the Karachi international airport just as a massive deployment of US marines arrived the busy airport. Stories of victims and their relatives, responders and their purpose, perpetrators and their reasons, unfolds a tale of current resolutions based on old conceptions.

The narrative tells of the most diverse colorful global characters surrounded with a good mix of friends and foes.

David Holden is the English Doctor who loves humanity more than his origins and Abdul Kazaar Ali is his opportunistic aged patient who lives out his perception of Muslim norms like he desires. Aaamu and her mother Rael, live by their wits as their circumstances allow. Fatima is smart enough to outwit her sexuality but too human to resist normalcy.

Ruth is the Israeli genius whose Jewish father gave her a lot more than just his name and Lee is her Chinese boyfriend, trying out fantasies alongside opinions. Then there is Sean Samuel, the Irish-American reporter with a huge reputation he constantly seeks to live up to, like his country.