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Full Speech (text) of President Buhari’s inaugural speech (READ)

Inaugural speech by His Excellency, President Muhammadu Buhari following his

swearing-in as President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria on 29th May, 2015

I am immensely grateful to God Who Has preserved us to witness this day and this occasion. Today marks a triumph for Nigeria and an occasion to celebrate her freedom and cherish her democracy. Nigerians have shown their commitment to democracy and are determined to entrench its culture. Our journey has not been easy but thanks to the determination of our people and strong support from friends abroad we have today a truly democratically elected government in place.

I would like to thank President Goodluck Jonathan for his display of statesmanship in setting a precedent for us that has now made our people proud to be Nigerians wherever they are. With the support and cooperation he has given to the transition process, he has made it possible for us to show the world that despite the perceived tension in the land we can be a united people capable of doing what is right for our nation. Together we co-operated to surprise the world that had come to expect only the worst from Nigeria. I hope this act of graciously accepting defeat by the outgoing President will become the standard of political conduct in the country.

I would like to thank the millions of our supporters who believed in us even when the cause seemed hopeless. I salute their resolve in waiting long hours in rain and hot sunshine to register and cast their votes and stay all night if necessary to protect and ensure their votes count and were counted.  I thank those who tirelessly carried the campaign on the social media. At the same time, I thank our other countrymen and women who did not vote for us but contributed to make our democratic culture truly competitive, strong and definitive.

I thank all of you.

Having just a few minutes ago sworn on the Holy Book, I intend to keep my oath and serve as President to all Nigerians.

I belong to everybody and I belong to nobody.

A few people have privately voiced fears that on coming back to office I shall go after them. These fears are groundless. There will be no paying off old scores. The past is prologue.

Our neighbours in the Sub-region and our African brethenen should rest assured that Nigeria under our administration will be ready to play any leadership role that Africa expects of it. Here I would like to thank the governments and people of Cameroon, Chad and Niger for committing their armed forces to fight Boko Haram in Nigeria.

I also wish to assure the wider international community of our readiness to cooperate and help to combat threats of cross-border terrorism, sea piracy, refugees and boat people, financial crime, cyber crime, climate change, the spread of communicable diseases and other challenges of the 21st century.

At home we face enormous challenges. Insecurity, pervasive corruption, the hitherto unending and seemingly impossible fuel and power shortages are the immediate concerns. We are going to tackle them head on. Nigerians will not regret that they have entrusted national responsibility to us. We must not succumb to hopelessness and defeatism. We can fix our problems.

In recent times Nigerian leaders appear to have misread our mission. Our founding fathers, Mr Herbert Macauley, Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe, Chief Obafemi Awolowo, Alhaji Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, Alhaji Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, Malam Aminu Kano, Chief J.S. Tarka, Mr Eyo Ita, Chief Denis Osadeby, Chief Ladoke Akintola and their colleagues worked to establish certain standards of governance. They might have differed in their methods or tactics or details, but they were united in establishing a viable and progressive country. Some of their successors behaved like spoilt children breaking everything and bringing disorder to the house.

Furthermore, we as Nigerians must remind ourselves that we are heirs to great civilizations: Shehu Othman Dan fodio’s caliphate, the Kanem Borno Empire, the Oyo Empire, the Benin Empire and King Jaja’s formidable domain. The blood of those great ancestors flow in our veins. What is now required is to build on these legacies, to modernize and uplift Nigeria.

Daunting as the task may be it is by no means insurmountable. There is now a national consensus that our chosen route to national development is democracy. To achieve our objectives we must consciously work the democratic system. The Federal Executive under my watch will not seek to encroach on the duties and functions of the Legislative and Judicial arms of government. The law enforcing authorities will be charged to operate within the Constitution. We shall rebuild and reform the public service to become more effective and more serviceable. We shall charge them to apply themselves with integrity to stabilize the system.

For their part the legislative arm must keep to their brief of making laws, carrying out over-sight functions and doing so expeditiously. The judicial system needs reform to cleanse itself from its immediate past. The country now expects the judiciary to act with dispatch on all cases especially on corruption, serious financial crimes or abuse of office. It is only when the three arms act constitutionally that government will be enabled to serve the country optimally and avoid the confusion all too often bedeviling governance today.

Elsewhere relations between Abuja and the States have to be clarified if we are to serve the country better. Constitutionally there are limits to powers of each of the three tiers of government but that should not mean the Federal Government should fold its arms and close its eyes to what is going on in the states and local governments. Not least the operations of the Local Government Joint Account. While the Federal Government can not interfere in the details of its operations it will ensure that the gross corruption at the local level is checked. As far as the constitution allows me I will try to ensure that there is responsible and accountable governance at all levels of government in the country. For I will not have kept my own trust with the Nigerian people if I allow others abuse theirs under my watch.

However, no matter how well organized the governments of the federation are they can not succeed without the support, understanding and cooperation of labour unions, organized private sector, the press and civil society organizations. I appeal to employers and workers alike to unite in raising productivity so that everybody will have the opportunity to share in increased prosperity. The Nigerian press is the most vibrant in Africa. My appeal to the media today – and this includes the social media – is to exercise its considerable powers with responsibility and patriotism.

My appeal for unity is predicated on the seriousness of the legacy we are getting into. With depleted foreign reserves, falling oil prices, leakages and debts the Nigerian economy is in deep trouble and will require careful management to bring it round and to tackle the immediate challenges confronting us, namely; Boko Haram, the Niger Delta situation, the power shortages and unemployment especially among young people. For the longer term we have to improve the standards of our education. We have to look at the whole field of medicare. We have to upgrade our dilapidated physical infrastructure.

The most immediate is Boko Haram’s insurgency. Progress has been made in recent weeks by our security forces but victory can not be achieved by basing the Command and Control Centre in Abuja. The command centre will be relocated to Maiduguri and remain until Boko Haram is completely subdued. But we can not claim to have defeated Boko Haram without rescuing the Chibok girls and all other innocent persons held hostage by insurgents.

This government will do all it can to rescue them alive. Boko Haram is a typical example of small fires causing large fires. An eccentric and unorthodox preacher with a tiny following was given posthumous fame and following by his extra judicial murder at the hands of the police. Since then through official bungling, negligence, complacency or collusion Boko Haram became a terrifying force taking tens of thousands of lives and capturing several towns and villages covering swathes of Nigerian sovereign territory.

Boko Haram is a mindless, godless group who are as far away from Islam as one can think of. At the end of the hostilities when the group is subdued the Government intends to commission a sociological study to determine its origins, remote and immediate causes of the movement, its sponsors, the international connexions to ensure that measures are taken to prevent a reccurrence of this evil. For now the Armed Forces will be fully charged with prosecuting the fight against Boko haram. We shall overhaul the rules of engagement to avoid human rights violations in operations. We shall improve operational and legal mechanisms so that disciplinary steps are taken against proven human right violations by the Armed Forces.

Boko Haram is not only the security issue bedeviling our country. The spate of kidnappings, armed robberies, herdsmen/farmers clashes, cattle rustlings all help to add to the general air of insecurity in our land. We are going to erect and maintain an efficient, disciplined people – friendly and well – compensated security forces within an over – all security architecture.

The amnesty programme in the Niger Delta is due to end in December, but the Government intends to invest heavily in the projects, and programmes currently in place. I call on the leadership and people in these areas to cooperate with the State and Federal Government in the rehabilitation programmes which will be streamlined and made more effective. As ever, I am ready to listen to grievances of my fellow Nigerians. I extend my hand of fellowship to them so that we can bring peace and build prosperity for our people.

No single cause can be identified to explain Nigerian’s poor economic performance over the years than the power situation. It is a national shame that an economy of 180 million generates only 4,000MW, and distributes even less. Continuous tinkering with the structures of power supply and distribution and close on $20b expanded since 1999 have only brought darkness, frustration, misery, and resignation among Nigerians. We will not allow this to go on. Careful studies are under way during this transition to identify the quickest, safest and most cost-effective way to bring light and relief to Nigerians.

Unemployment, notably youth un-employment features strongly in our Party’s Manifesto. We intend to attack the problem frontally through revival of agriculture, solid minerals mining as well as credits to small and medium size businesses to kick – start these enterprises. We shall quickly examine the best way to revive major industries and accelerate the revival and development of our railways, roads and general infrastructure.

Your Excellencies, My fellow Nigerians I can not recall when Nigeria enjoyed so much goodwill abroad as now. The messages I received from East and West, from powerful and small countries are indicative of international expectations on us. At home the newly elected government is basking in a reservoir of goodwill and high expectations. Nigeria therefore has a window of opportunity to fulfill our long – standing potential of pulling ourselves together and realizing our mission as a great nation.

Our situation somehow reminds one of a passage in Shakespeare’s Julius Ceasar

There is a tide in the affairs of men which,

taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life,

Is bound in shallows and miseries.

We have an opportunity. Let us take it.

Thank you

Muhammadu Buhari

President Federal Republic of NIGERIA


Commander in-chief-of the Armed forces

Whatsapp For Android Has New Privacy Settings

WhatsAppjust got better after it was acquired few days ago by Facebookfor just $19 billion.WhatsApp has finally released a new update for Android which brings the much awaited privacy settings that enables you to customize WhatsApp the way you want it.

The new update brings new Privacy options under Account section in Settings. Now, you can finally hide your ” Last Seen”, “Profile Photo” and “Status” from anyone. This has nothing to do with downloading an app on play store to hide your last seen TimeStamp but originally coming from them.

Using the new privacy feature, you can alloweveryoneto see your personal info (last seen, profile pic and status) or onlyyour contactsornobody.

No more any duke and harry stalking your last appearance on WhatsApp or whatsoever.

This new WhatsApp update is not yet available on the Google Play Store, but you can download the new WhatsApp v2.11.169 update APK file from the official WhatsApp website.


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Approaching Women – 5 Secrets For Newbies

Okay! So, I heard you are new in the game.. You wanna approach her, but you just don’t know how. These tips would help you, read on!

1. Make 3 Fast Approaches For Warm-up

Look for three girls that you like, and are comfortable with, and ask them something. No matter what. Ask for the way, the time, a place to go out since you’re new in town, the next cool bar, etc. Be creative!

You don’t have to get into a conversation, but if it happens, don’t fight it. The goal is to get into an “approaching mood”, and most important, to get comfortable with the idea of talking to women.

You will learn that it’s ok and that nothing terrible will happen. This will remove a lot of tension from you and believe me, your next attempts will be much, much easier.

2. Detach yourself completely from the outcome

This is very important.

In order to make progress and get beyond your fears, I want you to have no expectations whatsoever. No matter what she says or does, I want your life to go on the same way.

Don’t have expectations!

See it as a game. Be playful. You’re there to learn and the only thing you want to get out of this is experience. If you get a number or e-mail in the end, that’s great. But don’t expect anything.

Should you get rejected, so what? No big deal. Just move on.

3. Pay attention to your body language

Would you believe me when I say, that your body language is affecting the outcome of your performance itself? That means, even before you reach the woman, she might have already decided whether she will reject you or not.

Watch your body posture. This subconsciously sends a signal of confidence, and shows that you know what you’re doing. This also increases your attractiveness many times over.
Keep your head high, slightly above the horizontal line, imagine an invisible string tied to your chest, lifting you straight up
always lead from your hips when your are walking during the conversation, never lean physically in, always lean back sit and stand always in the most comfortable position. As if you were at home. Lean on a wall, put a leg on the chair, use a chair like a sofa, etc.
Watch your hands. Don’t hang on to your glass. Put one hand into your pocket, and leave the other one free. Don’t try to look cool, (if you are, you will anyway). Have a slight smile – always.

This is pure gold.

4. Forget all pick-up lines you’ve ever heard

Trust me, they won’t work. You don’t need them.

The truth is, what you say only matters less than 6% to the outcome. You communicate the rest through other ways. Like the tone of your voice, and mainly through your body language.

The truth is, what you say only matters less than 6% to the outcome

Maintain strong eye contact during the approach, watch your body language, put on your biggest smile and just say “hi”.

5. Have a story prepared

Let the conversation flow naturally. Talk to the girl like you talk to your best friend. The more natural you are, the better.

Don’t compliment her to much, again, be playful and cocky. Speak slowly, and keep your voice tone low.

What happens very often now to newbies, is that they begin having trouble maintaining the conversation. They get stuck, since they can not remember any topic to speak about.

Or they ask too many questions, which is also not helpful to getting the conversation going.

It helps to have some kind of a story prepared. If nothing interesting has ever happened to you, you can make something up.

It really doesn’t matter what the story is about. What matters is how you are telling it.

It has to be told in an interesting and dramatic way. She has to be sucked into that story, watching your lips, like she can’t wait to see how it ends.

Can you do that? I bet you can. If not, practice!

From now on, you have several options. You can ask for her number/e-mail, change the location with her, or simply move on.


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This piece, first published in, is a very compelling argument penned by a very compelling woman. There have been many things written since the signing of the Nigerian anti-gay bill, some for and some others decrying it. Many more things will be written, I’m sure. In the meantime, here’s Chimamanda’s take. Read and let us know your thoughts.



Chimamanda AdichieI will call him Sochukwuma. A thin, smiling boy who liked to play with us girls at the university primary school in Nsukka. We were young. We knew he was different, we said, ‘he’s not like the other boys.’ But his was a benign and unquestioned difference; it was simply what it was. We did not have a name for him. We did not know the word ‘gay.’ He was Sochukwuma and he was friendly and he played oga so well that his side always won.In secondary school, some boys in his class tried to throw Sochukwuma off a second floor balcony. They were strapping teenagers who had learned to notice, and fear, difference. They had a name for him. Homo. They mocked him because his hips swayed when he walked and his hands fluttered when he spoke. He brushed away their taunts, silently, sometimes grinning an uncomfortable grin. He must have wished that he could be what they wanted him to be. I imagine now how helplessly lonely he must have felt. The boys often asked, “Why can’t he just be like everyone else?”

Possible answers to that question include ‘because he is abnormal,’ ‘because he is a sinner, ‘because he chose the lifestyle.’ But the truest answer is ‘We don’t know.’ There is humility and humanity in accepting that there are things we simply don’t know. At the age of 8, Sochukwuma was obviously different.  It was not about sex, because it could not possibly have been – his hormones were of course not yet fully formed – but it was an awareness of himself, and other children’s awareness of him, as different. He could not have ‘chosen the lifestyle’ because he was too young to do so. And why would he – or anybody – choose to be homosexual in a world that makes life so difficult for homosexuals?

The new law that criminalizes homosexuality is popular among Nigerians. But it shows a failure of our democracy, because the mark of a true democracy is not in the rule of its majority but in the protection of its minority – otherwise mob justice would be considered democratic. The law is also unconstitutional, ambiguous, and a strange priority in a country with so many real problems. Above all else, however, it is unjust. Even if this was not a country of abysmal electricity supply where university graduates are barely literate and people die of easily-treatable causes and Boko Haram commits casual mass murders, this law would still be unjust.  We cannot be a just society unless we are able to accommodate benign difference, accept benign difference, live and let live. We may not understand homosexuality, we may find it personally abhorrent but our response cannot be to criminalize it.

A crime is a crime for a reason. A crime has victims. A crime harms society. On what basis is homosexuality a crime? Adults do no harm to society in how they love and whom they love. This is a law that will not prevent crime, but will, instead, lead to crimes of violence: there are already, in different parts of Nigeria, attacks on people ‘suspected’ of being gay. Ours is a society where men are openly affectionate with one another. Men hold hands. Men hug each other. Shall we now arrest friends who share a hotel room, or who walk side by side? How do we determine the clunky expressions in the law – ‘mutually beneficial,’ ‘directly or indirectly?’

Many Nigerians support the law because they believe the Bible condemns homosexuality. The Bible can be a basis for how we choose to live our personal lives, but it cannot be a basis for the laws we pass, not only because the holy books of different religions do not have equal significance for all Nigerians but also because the holy books are read differently by different people. The Bible, for example, also condemns fornication and adultery and divorce, but they are not crimes.

For supporters of the law, there seems to be something about homosexuality that sets it apart. A sense that it is not ‘normal.’ If we are part of a majority group, we tend to think others in minority groups are abnormal, not because they have done anything wrong, but because we have defined normal to be what we are and since they are not like us, then they are abnormal. Supporters of the law want a certain semblance of human homogeneity. But we cannot legislate into existence a world that does not exist: the truth of our human condition is that we are a diverse, multi-faceted species. The measure of our humanity lies, in part, in how we think of those different from us. We cannot – should not – have empathy only for people who are like us.

Some supporters of the law have asked – what is next, a marriage between a man and a dog?’ Or ‘have you seen animals being gay?’ (Actually, studies show that there is homosexual behavior in many species of animals.) But, quite simply, people are not dogs, and to accept the premise – that a homosexual is comparable to an animal – is inhumane. We cannot reduce the humanity of our fellow men and women because of how and who they love. Some animals eat their own kind, others desert their young. Shall we follow those examples, too?

Other supporters suggest that gay men sexually abuse little boys. But pedophilia and homosexuality are two very different things. There are men who abuse little girls, and women who abuse little boys, and we do not presume that they do it because they are heterosexuals. Child molestation is an ugly crime that is committed by both straight and gay adults (this is why it is a crime: children, by virtue of being non-adults, require protection and are unable to give sexual consent).

There has also been some nationalist posturing among supporters of the law. Homosexuality is ‘unafrican,’ they say, and we will not become like the west. The west is not exactly a homosexual haven; acts of discrimination against homosexuals are not uncommon in the US and Europe. But it is the idea of ‘unafricanness’ that is truly insidious. Sochukwuma was born of Igbo parents and had Igbo grandparents and Igbo great-grandparents. He was born a person who would romantically love other men. Many Nigerians know somebody like him. The boy who behaved like a girl. The girl who behaved like a boy. The effeminate man. The unusual woman. These were people we knew, people like us, born and raised on African soil. How then are they ‘unafrican?’

If anything, it is the passage of the law itself that is ‘unafrican.’ It goes against the values of tolerance and ‘live and let live’ that are part of many African cultures. (In 1970s Igboland, Area Scatter was a popular musician, a man who dressed like a woman, wore makeup, plaited his hair. We don’t know if he was gay – I think he was – but if he performed today, he could conceivably be sentenced to fourteen years in prison. For being who he is.) And it is informed not by a home-grown debate but by a cynically borrowed one: we turned on CNN and heard western countries debating ‘same sex marriage’ and we decided that we, too, would pass a law banning same sex marriage. Where, in Nigeria, whose constitution defines marriage as being between a man and a woman, has any homosexual asked for same-sex marriage?

This is an unjust law. It should be repealed. Throughout history, many inhumane laws have been passed, and have subsequently been repealed. Barack Obama, for example, would not be here today had his parents obeyed American laws that criminalized marriage between blacks and whites.

An acquaintance recently asked me, ‘if you support gays, how would you have been born?’ Of course, there were gay Nigerians when I was conceived. Gay people have existed as long as humans have existed. They have always been a small percentage of the human population. We don’t know why. What matters is this: Sochukwuma is a Nigerian and his existence is not a crime.


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A Passing Storm (Episode 2)

Alison sat immobile on the examining table, her eyes glazed and gazing into nowhere, her mind numb.

Doctor Shola looked at her through bespectacled eyes, his expression a mixture of exasperation and fatherly kindness. She knew what he was probably thinking. These young girls never seemed to be careful and take proper precautions, let alone practice any form of restraint.

“Do you have daughters, Doctor?” Her voice sounded wooden to her ears.

“Yes, I have two.” His answer was gentle.

“And after seeing girls like me, I’m sure you must be wondering what yours are up to. You’re probably wondering if, after everything you’ve taught them, they’re any wiser.”

He said nothing, his expression devoid of judgment and she looked away, catching sight of her reflection on the window pane. Her eyes were wild with fear and bewilderment. She had come in complaining of malaria-like symptoms and the doctor had tested her for malaria and typhoid and had asked, in an offhand manner, if she could be pregnant. She had answered, no. He had run the test anyway and she had refused to believe the result.

And then he had her lie down and pull up her shirt. She had felt the shocking coldness of the gel on her tummy before the pressure of the scanner. She had stared numbly at the jumble of black and grey images on the screen until he pointed to a small sac that appeared to be pulsating. A heartbeat, he said. Strong and viable were the exact words he used.

“So…you’re saying I’m pregnant?”

singles 4

“Yes, dear. I suspected as much, given the date of your last cycle. Think back… a little over two months back…”

And she had. She knew all the whos, whats, whens, wheres and hows of this. Damn him and his smooth talk and liquid eyes. So much for being a ‘good girl’. What will my parents say? What am I going to do? The next long holiday isn’t not due for another 10 weeks and by then I won’t be able to hide anything.

“My dear…” The doctor’s voice crept into her thoughts and brought her head snapping back up.

“Uhm…yes…I was…with someone around that time. …” Oh God, I’m sorry.

The doctor nodded quietly. She looked back down, bit her lip and started swinging her legs in an odd rhythm. Then she abruptly swung herself off the examining table and stood in front of him, looking up into his eyes. “Doctor, I have to go and…think. I will be back within a week.” Then she deftly took her file and walked out of his office, heading to the receptionist to pay for her tests and consultation.


“And you are absolutely sure it’s mine?” he asked, eyes staring into space, his face a mask of blankness.

“Don’t you dare go into that old ‘it isn’t me’ routine. I am 3 months pregnant and you know exactly what happened three months ago, Michael. And no, don’t even bother trying to pin this on anyone else. Yes, it’s yours. Period.” Alison could almost feel him shrinking away from her, as though he wanted to wish her away.

“So what do you want to do?”

“Me? Why does it have to be about me?”

“Because it is in your body and you will have to carry it…or you might…”

“I might what, Michael?” she spat, her eyes flashing and her throat clogging up with tears. “Why don’t you just say it out loud? It won’t kill you, will it?”

“Calm down, Alison.”

“Screw calmness and screw you. Oh, I forgot, I already did that. That’s why we’re both here.”

“I didn’t force you to do anything then and I won’t do it now, Alison.” His clinical detachment hurt.

“No you can’t force me to get rid of it, can you? But that would be extremely convenient for you now, eh? My body is yours to have fun with but mine to handle everything else, abi? ”

“Don’t try and pin all the blame on me, Alison. This…situation is as much your fault as it is mine. I must admit that the ‘Daddy’ title isn’t something I had wanted so soon.”

“But you wanted the whole process that would lead up to being called ‘Daddy’, eh?”

She got up abruptly and picked her books, her eyes stinging with tears. He didn’t stop her as she walked away and she forced herself not to look back. She would not give him the satisfaction of watching her unravel.

Alison thought about how she would tell her parents, what she would go through in school as she began to ‘show’ and what to do with the baby after it was born. Her stomach churned and she felt nauseous. She wasn’t sure if that was a symptom of pregnancy or just nerves.

She was on her own.


The news did not go down well with her parents. Her mother wept on the phone and her father was terse and unforgiving.

“Well, since you decided to go and sleep with that boy then he can take care of you. Let him and his parents take responsibility because I most certainly won’t,” he said with an air of finality before handing the phone to her mother, who proceeded to cry some more.

Alison sat on her mattress, dejected with her cell phone in her limp hand, alone in the room with her thoughts. At 14 weeks pregnant there was a slight, almost imperceptible bump on her abdomen and her trousers were beginning to get a little snug. Her roommates had noticed the change in her and she knew that they were curious, whispering and then stopping as soon as she entered the room. Soon the whispers would inevitably spread outside her room.

“Wetin do you sef?” Omasan, one of her 5 roommates asked as she walked into the room, her books in her arms. Omasan wasn’t an overly curious girl, preferring to mind her business and distance herself from the other girls in the room. Alison had always thought her to be cold. Her personal question to Alison made her realize that her misery was evident.

“Nothing do me o.” Alison hoped her blithe answer would serve to discourage any more questions.

“Ehn? You think you can hide that your belle under your big shirts forever?”

Alison’s head shot up.

Omasan plopped down on her bed and turned to face Alison. “See, let me tell you something. Everyone knows now. I just feel sorry for you and that is why I am telling you. The other girls have decided to go and do amebo and now the whole school knows you are pregnant.”

Fresh tears rolled out of Alison’s eyes. Her humiliation knew no bounds.

Omasan’s eyes softened. “Look…you are no worse than hundreds of girls around. Is the father helping you?” Alison shook her head slowly.

Omasan exhaled, her eyes full of pity. “Are you keeping it?”

“Yes…I can’t…I’m too afraid to get rid of it. I’m already almost 4 months and I’m afraid if I try anything I might die, or something might happen and I’ll never have children. I’m afraid God will punish me.”

Omasan pursed her lips. “Punishment, ke. Look at what’s happening to you now. People are looking and pointing and saying all types of rubbish, like it’s only your fault. God doesn’t have to punish you. People around are doing that job well. And you’re punishing yourself too.”

“Maybe it is my fault.” Alison was heavy, physically and otherwise.

Omasan looked incredulous. “How? It’s funny but somehow in this society being the girl that gets pregnant is much worse than being the guy responsible. That’s very convenient.”

Alison felt bitterness well up within her. She thought about Michael and what he was doing at that very moment: probably enjoying his life, without a care in the world and maybe even knocking someone else up. She sighed and got up.


It was worse than Alison could ever have imagined. The first few weeks were filled with people openly staring at her, some with looks of pity and others with amusement and still others with self righteousness. She had been called into an office by one of her lecturers and had to endure a long winded speech about her stupidity and ‘loose behaviour’. She stopped going to church and fellowship because of how guilty she felt, and she kept blocking the attempts of the leader of the fellowship leader to talk to her, not answering his calls and refusing to meet him until he stopped trying altogether.

She hadn’t been to see the doctor and she was almost in her 5th month. There were times when, in the silence of the night, she would curl up on her mattress and try and will the baby to die, to be stillborn. There were many times she wanted to die herself.

She still continued receiving money from home- she was sure that was her mother’s doing. At least it was enough to keep her living.

She sat one day in her room, trying to read for a test with Loquat’sSwingset Chain playing on her radio. The room was empty and she was grateful for that as she wanted nothing more than to be alone. Then there was a knock and a girl opened the door, poking her head in.

“There’s a guy looking for you outside. One Michael like that.”

With that the girl left without giving Alison the chance to respond. Her throat dried up and her pulse quickened. What did he want? They hadn’t spoken for a very long time and she avoided him whenever she saw him, ducking into shadows and corners. She pushed herself up, her growing belly making it more uncomfortable for her to move around. She had long stopped trying to hide her condition from the girls, no longer bothering to undress in the dark and take showers late at night. She walked out of the room and downstairs to the lobby where all visitors waited. She spotted him immediately.

She walked to him and stood quietly, waiting for what he had to say. She felt the shift in attention as eyes bored into them- she had gotten adept at reading signs. People wanted something to talk about and she had just provided enough fodder to feed the fire of hostel gossip for a week.

She pushed her shoulders back, making her burgeoning belly more evident. Let them look and let them talk until they drop dead. She narrowed her eyes at Michael.

“What do you want?” She poured out her contempt.

He looked taken aback. “I just want to talk to you. Maybe we could go somewhere private?”

She let out a breath and shrugged her shoulders. “Private, huh? The last time we had a ‘private’ moment it didn’t work out too well.”

He didn’t answer as he turned and walked out as she followed closely, aware of the eyes drilling into her back, hearing the not-so-subtle whispers.

“Na ‘im be de guy wey give am belle?”

“You see? I know say na all these church girls wey dey do…”

“Is he the one?”

And then they were standing in front of his car. Michael rubbed the back of his head, looking uneasy. “See…I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh have you? How unusual.” She wanted to cut into him in any way possible. Sarcasm was as good a tool as any.

“Easy, easy. What’s all the aggression for? I’m here to make amends.”

“Amends? How can you possibly make amends for this? You have no idea what I have gone through in the last few weeks. My parents won’t talk to me, I am the subject of gossip from the lecture halls to the student beer parlours.” She paused for breath, ready to continue her onslaught. “You know what else sucks? Upon the fact that you denied me and this baby, the same people who abuse and insult me will hail you and pat your back.”

Michael lowered his head for a moment, as though trying to gather his thoughts. Then he spoke. “Look, about the denial thing, I’m sorry, okay? I thought you were trying to trap me.  I was wrong…I want to help you.”


“You can move in with me.” Her eyes widened in shock and she opened her mouth to refuse but he held his hands out, stopping her. “Wait. Hear me out first before you refuse. I think you should move in with me and I’ll take care of you- Doctor, antenatals and all that stuff.”

“And after the baby arrives? What then?”

“I don’t know, Alison. All I know is that you’re pregnant and I’m responsible so…I’ll do what I can. At least think about it. What are your other options now? You want to go at this alone or you want my help?” Alison looked at him and saw no subterfuge, his expression frank and open. Her shoulders drooped in defeat.

She began to cry. First the tears rolled down her face in inconspicuous paths, then the deluge came. She started to sob, Michael’s image blurring before her as the tears ran down, this time in rivulets. She heard thunder in the distance and then it began to rain. Fat droplets of water landed on her head and she closed her eyes, unwilling to move, wanting the rain to wash her away. It increased from a steady shower to a downpour. She heard the pounding footsteps of students running as they tried to find shelter in the storm but something in her refused to move.

“Alison, get out of the rain!” She heard Michael shout. She didn’t respond.

“What, you want to stay out here and freeze to death?” His voice cut into her thoughts.

Wait. She had been here before, heard this before.

Thunder crashed again.


Alison opened her eyes and found herself standing at the foot of the stairs at Parole Hall. It was raining. What had just happened?

“What the…?” Michael stood in front of her, a shell-shocked look on his face.

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. He shook his head as though trying to clear it of something.

“Are you okay?” As the question passed her lips, Alison was sure it was meant as much for her as for him.

“I’m fine… I think.”

She hesitated and he shrugged, walking upstairs. Alison started follow him but stopped as she heard the sound of wet, running footsteps. She turned around and saw Dora running toward her, soaked to the skin and holding her folder with lectures notes tightly against her chest, her bag swinging on her shoulder. Relief flooded her and she felt her legs go weak.

“Alison?” Dora’s face creased in worry. “How far na? How long have you been here?”

“I came to see you. Sorry I didn’t call.”

“Never mind that. Let’s go inside before we die of cold.” Dora peered past Alison to Michael, smiling. “Hi Michael. I see you’ve met my friend Alison.”

Michael gave a slow nod.

“Well…we’ll be going inside now. See you later.”

“See you Dora. And you too…Alison.” Dora fumbled with her keys, opened the door and entered. Alison made to enter, but before she did she cast one last look at Michael. He was still standing halfway up the stairs, regarding her with the same odd look he had given a few minutes earlier, and she wondered if he too had experienced that odd sense of déjà vu she felt. With a shake of his head, he turned and went upstairs.

“What was that between you and Michael?” Dora asked as they sat in the apartment later, dry and warm, sheltered from the pouring rain.

“What do you mean?”

“There was a…look. It was weird, like you guys know each other really well, like something had happened between you two,” Dora said.

Alison laughed. “Oh it was nothing. Really, it wasn’t. I was going to go to his place and wait out the rain but luckily you came along. He basically offered me shelter from the passing storm.”

Written by Sifa Asani Gowon

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A Passing Storm (Episode 1)

Thunder crashed overhead, the rain pouring down in sheets as she pulled her arms into her chest and tried to move further back into the wall, as if that was possible. The open hallway did nothing to stop the rain blown in by wind to whip into her, soaking her from head to toe. Alison cursed her stupidity for having gone out when she could see it would rain, whimpering in her dripping misery.

What made it even worse was that Dora, the person she had come to see, wasn’t in. Alison had boarded the horrible, broken down Hiace bus that she could have sworn was only held together by duct tape and prayer and, on a whim, headed off campus to see her friend. She hadn’t bothered calling, and now she gritted her teeth in annoyance. She had been so sure Dora would be in as she hardly ever went out, save lectures.

Dora lived in Parole Hall, one of the blocks of flats that accommodated the wealthier students, who preferred to live off campus rather than go through the rigours of life in the university hostels. Alison had come to Parole Hall in a bid to escape the noise, clamor and sheer chaos of the hostel, not bothering to tell her roommate where she had gone.

Lightning flashed across the fast darkening sky and she bit her lip, wondering how she would escape and get back to school. There was not a car in sight and all the commercial bikes popularly known asachabas had disappeared, the operators most likely seeking shelter.

Students had long since vanished, each escaping into their respective flats with their doors bolted fast. She was the only one outside. She caught a glimpse of headlights and closed her eyes as they shone straight at her. Her eyes were still closed as she heard a car door slam and wet footsteps pattered towards her.

“What are you doing outside?” a male voice shouted, competing in volume with the howling wind and crashing rain. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at Michael Egbomian, her ‘school crush’.

Perhaps ‘crush’ was too juvenile a term to label it but love it was not. Whatever it was, he had a hold on her.

He was one of those young men that didn’t escape notice and commanded attention wherever he was. He was a cliché – coffee brown, tall and appealing. An overall hunk of chocolate goodness, as she was wont to describe him. He was the guy every mother warned her daughter about and every daughter wanted against her better judgment.

“What, you want to stay out here and freeze to death?” His voice cut into her thoughts.

“My friend…she’s not in,” she said, feeling foolish at stating the obvious.

He crooked his eyebrow at her. “Well then you had better come to my place to wait until the storm passes.”

She hesitated and he shrugged and started walking upstairs. She trudged up after him and stood as he fumbled with his keys. They entered a dark apartment that smelled of Aqua di Gio and stale tobacco, not the cheap stuff but the authentic high-end type found in cigars or pipes. She heard him bump into a hard surface an utter a foul word, grappling around for something. He switched on a torch and the light landed squarely in her eyes, causing her to squint.

“NEPA.” He spat the word out like phlegm.

She chimed in. “I’m sure they will give the normal excuse of ‘the poles fell down’ or something equally stupid.”  Her eyes gradually got used to the semi-darkness and she could see Michael clearly, his wet shirt stuck to his chest and showed every plane clearly.

He looked at her and she felt cornered, like he could read her thoughts. He indicated at the couch. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll put the candles on. I can’t go out in this rain to put on the gen.”

She sat down at the edge of a small couch in the living room, wrapping her arms around her body. Her hair was a mess, it lay plastered to her skull, limp strands of thin relaxed hair hanging down from a rather scraggly, dripping ponytail. She reached up, wishing she could loosen it and shake out the water. She heard him puttering around and finally saw the soft glow of the candle as he came in, a bundle of fabric in his hands. He tossed the fabric on the couch, where it landed in a jumbled heap.

“You might want to change into these.”


She reached out to the pile and held up the clothing, a nondescript T-shirt that could have been grey or beige and dark shorts with a pull cord around the midsection – the ultimate definition of drab. She chided herself, wondering at the inopportune time for her to be thinking fashion rather than comfort.

He seemed to sense her hesitation, adding, “They’re not cute but they are dry. The bathroom is over there.” He pointed to a door and she got up, picked a candle and walked to the bathroom.

As she changed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and looked. The candle light cast shadows over her face, accentuating the surfaces and curves, making her appear stark and artistic. Steam rose around her and gooseflesh formed over her skin as she attempted to tame her thoughts regarding the young man in the next room. She found herself wondering if she was alluring enough, if her beauty was a gift to be offered on the platter of her willingness. Her thoughts shamed her and she quickly changed, walking out of the bathroom, hauling her wet clothes with her.

“Is there somewhere I can hang these for a bit?”

“There’s one of those hanger things in the hall. Hang them there although I doubt they’ll dry.”

“So…I really don’t know how to get back to school now.” She wanted to escape and get as far away from him as she could, not for fear of him but of herself.

“We’ll figure it out when the rain stops. I’m not about to go out again in this weather.” He walked into the small kitchen and came out with a packet of biscuits, chewing. “You hungry?” He reached out with the packet, offering.

She shook her head. She doubted she could swallow properly even if she tried. “Er…no thanks.”

He shrugged and plopped unto a couch, tipping his head back and closing his eyes, his body visibly relaxing.

She stood as still as a statue, observing him and marveling at his physical perfection. Her tummy churned as she watched him. He probably didn’t even know her name.

“Why are you staring at me, Alison?” His eyes were still closed just as hers widened.

“You know my name?”

“I make it my business to know the names of all pretty girls in the area. It’s a sort of…hobby, if that’s what I’d call it.” He popped one eye open, a wry smile playing about his mouth.

She opened her mouth and closed it again, feeling like a fish. He laughed.

“You think I’m pretty?” Alison couldn’t believe she had said that, sounding so gauche and inelegant. Typical JJC.

“Very.” He was reeling her in and she felt it. “Why are you standing? Why don’t you sit down?” She stood still. He indicated at the smaller sofa across from him. “You see? You have a chair all to yourself, far away from me. Is that okay? I don’t bite…much.”

She didn’t acknowledge the double entendre as she sat down, sinking into the soft, foamy seat, twiddling her thumbs and looking everywhere but at him.

“Okay, I guess we could start with the basics. Why the name Alison? It’s a very unusual name for a Nigerian.”

“My mother went to school in England and had a friend called Alison. She loved the name so much that she gave it to me when I was born.”

“Oh? I see. So…Alison…do you enjoy school?”

Alison thought it was getting comical. Here they were, with nervous energy crackling in the room and he was making small talk about school?

“Yes. What about you?”

The rain fell with thunder crashing in at a steady tempo and they talked on less personal topics for what seemed like hours. She remained upright on the chair, tense, with him across the room, at ease.

Soon she looked at the wall clock, shocked to see that it was already 8 pm. She didn’t know what to do: would she ask him to take her back to campus or would she go downstairs again and see if Dora was back? His voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Do you believe in destiny, Alison?”

Her skin tingled with sparks as she looked down, afraid to let him see her eyes lest he read too much into them. She didn’t know what to say. She did believe in destiny but she wasn’t entirely sure that was what was at play now. She didn’t know what to think. Was this an opportunity for her to tell him how she adored him from afar? Could she tell him how many nights she went to sleep with his face etched in her thoughts and then transferred to her dreams, where the impossible merged into reality? Surely he would laugh.


“So…you believe you’re not here by accident?”

“I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Maybe you do.”

Alison felt the foreboding crawl up her mind, battling with the delicious sense of adventure and anticipation. Together they created a potent mix, making her head swirl in confusion. This was here and now.

She shivered involuntarily and did something unlike her. She got up and walked to the couch where he lay sprawled, her face open, the only sound being their breathing and the drum of rain on the roof. Michael stood up, bridging the distance between them, reaching up to hold her forearms gently.

“You’re shivering.” His voice and proximity jumbled her thoughts all the more. “I really must get you something warmer.”

She inhaled sharply, unmoving, knowing what would come, what was almost inevitable. Or not.

When he kissed her, she responded with all the pent-up fire she had within.


Alison woke to the distant sound of the Muezzin calling for the prayer at dawn. She felt a slight movement and turned to see Michael sleeping soundly by her side. She sat up slowly, leaned on one elbow and looked at his sleeping form. His face, relaxed and devoid of any pretension, served to both anger and sadden her at once. This was not what she had planned.

Rain, thunder and lightning, handsome man and candlelight – such an obvious formula, and she hated herself for her failure to connect the dots. She cursed herself, Michael and even the rain for her temporary loss of sanity. Regret and defiance raged a war within her.

A steady tempo of her sense of foolishness began to beat in her head, matching the even thumping of an oncoming tension headache. She looked around wildly as she began to hyperventilate. Michael opened his eyes, the hooded lids she had found irresistible earlier unbearable now.

“Still breathless, Alison? I continue to impress myself…” he said, a lazy smile spreading across his lips. Heat flooded her face, and he must have seen her look darken, the smile leaving his face. “Are you angry? Why?  I thought we both enjoyed…” He let the sentence trail, the sensual undertone unmistakable.

She got up wordlessly, picking her discarded clothing as she began to dress methodically.

“I don’t normally…no, I don’t ever do this sort of thing…” she muttered, more to herself than him.

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“I am not into one-night stands.”

“I’m sure you’re not…”

“And I am smarter than this…”

“No doubt about…”

Her head shot up, irritation filling her at his condescending and somewhat amused tone. “Would you just shut up? You’re probably feeling very good about this right now and…”

“Me? As a matter of fact, yes, I feel very good. And why shouldn’t I? You’re the one making excuses and explanations there. What happened happened.”

She stood, her emotions roiling within her.

“I have to go.”

Then she walked out of the room and the flat. There were no people about, save a few early morning traders carrying bread on trays and some mai-shayis setting up for the morning rush. Alison was able to spot an achaba and get back to the hostel. She made up her mind to avoid Michael and never to speak to him again.

Written by Sifa Asani Gowon


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MY STORY: “Having An Affair With A Woman Saved Me And My Husband From Divorce” – Married Mother Tells All

The minutes ticked by as I waited for my husband Erik to get home from work. He was late.

Panic began to set in. Where was he?

There was a good reason for my nerves. This, I had promised myself, was to be the day I told him everything.

I was going to confess about what I had been up to for the past three months; what had been behind my increasingly frequent absences from home.


I couldn’t bear the deceit any more, the guilt I felt as I spun another yarn about another girly weekend away or an afternoon spent ‘interviewing’ someone for my next book.

But if this sounds like a cliched tale of infidelity, it’s not. Yes, I had been cheating on my husband – but it wasn’t with another man, it was with a woman.

I knew a fling of any variety wasn’t something to be proud of.

My parents had brought me up in Copthorne, West Sussex, in the hope that I would emulate their own enduring marriage.

And as a 40-year-old mother-of-three, I had never so much as had a teenage crush on a female friend before, let alone a physical relationship.

I knew, as I nervously anticipated Erik’s return, that what I had to confess could ruin everything.

But what I could never have anticipated was that his reaction would transform our marriage – for the better. Erik and I had first met in 2001, when I had flown to Florida for a friend’s wedding.

Bruised by a recent acrimonious divorce – ironically, my first marriage had crumbled after eight years because of my husband’s adultery – romance was the last thing I was looking for.

But when I got talking to this tall, handsome American, with blond hair and blue eyes, I couldn’t deny the attraction. Erik was studying for a PhD in philosophy.

Thoughtful, intelligent, well-read and amusing, he, too, was recently divorced, and when he asked me out to dinner, I found myself saying yes.

I expected it to be no more than a holiday fling, but after I flew back to London we talked for hours every day on the phone and exchanged lengthy emails. It became apparent this was the beginning of something serious.

The next month, Erik came to visit me at my home in Chelsea, where my two sons from my first marriage, Henry and Matthew, then seven and four, took to him instantly.

After conducting a long-distance relationship, flying back and forth for nearly a year, in 2002 I took the drastic step of moving my family to Florida.

It wasn’t easy meshing our complicated lives. Erik was still finishing his PhD and working six nights a week in a bar. I had to combine my career as a novelist with teaching creative writing at a university. It was exhausting, and Erik and I hardly had any free time together.

The boys settled in well, though. They loved having a man about the house again.

When I found out I was pregnant just days after our arrival in the U.S., I was delighted that our new blended family was soon to become complete. Erik then raised the subject of marriage but I shied away – still stung by my divorce.

I gave birth to Lily in 2002, and two years later I finally agreed to make our union official.

Two days before Christmas, we promised to forsake all others in a small church ceremony in front of 50 of our closest friends.

I meant it: after being on the receiving end of an adulterous spouse myself, I passionately believed in fidelity.

In 2008, we moved to Vermont for Erik’s work, close to the Canadian border. I thought I would love our new home, but while the children settled into their schools, I had to find new friends.

As a writer, I worked from home, which made it hard to meet people.

All my own friends were back in England, as were my brother and sister. My beloved mother had died years earlier.

Much as I loved my husband, I craved the kind of feminine friendship most women take for granted.

Gradually, I grew more and more bored and depressed. Erik tried to be sympathetic, but, as I told him, a man could never understand how I felt. I lost interest in everything but my writing.

Erik was as loving in bed as ever, but our passion was missing.

Then, out of the blue, I got an email from an old colleague (we’d worked together in TV news) who’d moved to Montreal, less than two hours away.

I didn’t know Freya that well, but she was also British and far from home, so when she suggested we meet up, I jumped at the chance. We clicked straight away.

However, we had so much more in common than that.

Both entering our 40s and on our second marriages, with teenage children, we were also both trying to cope as freelance writers in a very downbeat economy.

With Freya, I didn’t have to spell out why I felt the way I did, as I had to with Erik. She simply understood.

Exhilarated to have finally made a friend, we began meeting up every few weeks for coffee or lunch.

Then Freya invited me to a party with some of her friends. We both drank far too much, and at some point in the evening I can only hazily remember, Freya kissed me, and, caught up in the moment, I kissed her back.

The next morning, we both laughed it off, blaming it on the alcohol. But in my quieter moments, my mind kept returning to that kiss.

Not long afterwards, we met up at the cinema to see a chick flick that Erik hadn’t been interested in.

In the darkness, I was startled when Freya leaned in and kissed me again – but I found myself responding. I was curious – I’d never done this sort of thing before – but it also felt surprisingly natural. I forgot I was kissing a woman.

Because it was a woman, not a man, it was easy to convince myself I wasn’t being unfaithful. I still loved Erik, but being with Freya made me feel like my old self again.

Over the next month, we grew even closer, talking almost every day on the phone, texting constantly and visiting each other’s homes.

Erik seemed delighted I’d found an ally at last, and my heart twinged with guilt when he told me how much he liked her.

Things came to a head when Freya and I went to New York together one weekend for her birthday.

We shared a twin room – ostensibly to save money, but I can’t deny the thought that something else might happen crossed my mind.

That evening she flirted outrageously with me over dinner. When we went back to the hotel, after nearly two bottles of wine, she started to kiss me.

I put all thoughts of Erik aside and fell into her bed.

At first, I was nervous. I’d had plenty of experience with men, but I was a novice with women. I can only compare it with trying snowboarding for the first time after years as an alpine skier.

The next morning, I felt embarrassed but exhilarated, as if I’d passed some kind of test.

Back home, when Erik asked me how the weekend had gone, I fibbed and told him we’d spent so much time shopping, we’d both fallen asleep early. Again, I told myself that it wasn’t infidelity.

In truth, it was as if the forbidden novelty of sex with a woman had flipped a switch inside me.

I felt sensuous and alive. Erik soon noticed the change in me, commenting how much more passionate I seemed.

Ironically, my guilty secret seemed to be bringing us closer – first in bed, and then, by turn, everywhere else. There was no denying that the desire it had reawoken in me was breathing new life into my marriage, and, despite everything, that it was my husband who I truly loved.

It seems this phenomenon is not unusual.

A recent study of women who had been unfaithful revealed that a third felt their transgression had improved their sexual relationship with their husband.

Although Freya and I carried on seeing each other, we only slept together twice more.

The lies began to weigh more heavily on my mind.

Slipping back into the house one evening, after another illicit phone call, I glimpsed Erik, framed by the living room door, between my two boys on the sofa. It was like seeing a snapshot of what I had to lose.

I might be able to convince myself a fling with a woman didn’t count, but I couldn’t deny I was betraying his trust.

So one evening, when Erik returned home from work, I was waiting for him.

‘I slept with Freya,’ I blurted out before he had even got through the door.

To my astonishment, he replied: ‘I know.’

He had guessed, he said, the moment he first saw the two of us together. Apparently, the chemistry between us was blindingly obvious.

Erik had also realised the change in me was down to her – that she was, in whatever way, exactly what I had needed.

‘I’m just glad you’ve told me,’ he said, ‘so I don’t have to pretend not to know any more.’

Would Erik have been angrier, felt threatened, got jealous, if my affair had been with a man?

He has conceded as much himself. In that moment I understood that it’s not the sexual element of an affair that destroys a marriage, but the lies and deception that go with it.

I had also been short-changing my husband. I had assumed Erik couldn’t understand how I felt, without ever giving him the chance to prove me wrong. Now here was the evidence that he knew me better than perhaps I even knew myself.

When Freya told her husband, unlike Erik he was livid. We agreed to stop seeing each other. Though I missed her, I knew we’d given each other what we needed.

I had regained the adventurous edge I’d had when Erik and I met, and with it my willingness to step outside my comfort zone, to make new friends, to take chances.

Ten years of marriage had made me lazy. Thanks to Freya, I realised the joy that comes in opening yourself up again to new experiences, however unexpected.

The past two years have been the most satisfying of our marriage. We have a new closeness, both in and out of bed, and communicate better than ever before.

My affair, however ill-judged, enriched our marriage, instead of ending it.

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Having company makes life so easy to live, and this can also make it so miserable. Regardless of the age, sex, gender, financial status, we all need something from folks we don’t know and the ones we know to be precise. Some individuals embrace Independence to the extent of living without having affection and respect for their relations, while some individuals rely on people to progress in whatever they are involved.

Reading the paragraph above, one would probably think this journal should be a guideline on how to live with or without friends, partners and associates. Digesting the last sentence from the first would definitely tell you what this is all about.
I grew up in a moderately populated neighborhood where you can’t keep to yourself, because almost every of the residing families live together in harmony, just like blood relations neglecting societal class, ethnicity or religion. So, being a sensitive kid in this small beautiful world, I learnt a lot about love, partnership, self discipline and dependency. Looking deep into my encounters, I was able to
“Being dependent is humane, being too dependent is weakness while being independent takes courage”
There are times you will need someone 2 put you through a difficulty, then your partnership, friendship and relationship you’ve kept comes to your rescue.

Some people have problems with friendship, relationship because of their pride forgetting that  some friends makes us feel loved than our brothers or sisters, this makes the people that forgo partnership loose this compassionate feeling.

When it comes to “Dating and Loving”, laying of love becomes so interesting. Some people actualize their goals on time just because of the person they are in love with or dating precisely and precisely.

Loving is an essential factor that makes you realize being together with someone in life is natural and beneficial. When you are loved purely and exceptionally by someone, you will unconsciously loosen up on your principles of being independent, except if you don’t have a heart that pumps red blood. Also when you love someone wholeheartedly and you are loved back, the essence of existence will surely be shown to you by no man. Then easily you climb to the top for you have passionate additional reason to get to the top.

Seriously, the major aspect that helps both lovers to progress in their Endeavour is “PEACE”, and this comes from “TRUST”
When you find someone that trust you so much and tries to avoid drama, issues or fight at every opportunity, then you will absolutely be focused in whatever you reaching for.

However, some people says having a relationship slows you down in projection because you have to start dealing with someone else’s emotions alongside yours which will apparently distract you and mistaking your steps in getting accomplished. The correction to this notion has been stated above, but for further explanations; I will say a relationship that slows you down in achieving your goals is simply a wrong relationship. Its either you are the problem of yourself by not trusting your partner, you are not being expressive enough to say what you feel and what you want, you not loving your partner right or your partner doing all these things to you. So, this means you are on the wrong way.

Moreover, being with someone that prays and pray for you matters a lot because to have a sweet relationship and smooth ride to glory requires God’s blessings. So when your partner prays for both parties, the effect will surely be seen positively. Then don’t you complain about things not working out for you because you are with someone, move closer to the Almighty and persuade your partner to do the same. Surely your union shall be blessed.

When you find someone that forgives and forgets easily, that means you’ve found an understanding partner and not a fool, because for every mistake u make your partner will never judge you wrongly but reason in the right sense and correct u against next time. You will definitely learn about doing the same to your partner and to other people around you and that makes you a better person to the society at large.

In addition, Satisfaction is one thing that can make you loved and cherished because to satisfy human is not a child’s play, which is why there are some desire a lonely person can never get. So also, getting one’s desire in a relationship isn’t easy, you have to love what you are seeing naturally before the feeling of adjustment set in because human choices and likes changes due to their psychological nature. These desires could be care, sex, dressing, correction, attention, appearance and looks, religious practice, neatness, faithfulness, etc. For being with someone that can meet up with one’s desire ends one’s seek for other companionship and makes you feel complete

Having these narrated features in your relationship/partnership makes you independent while dependent for you are with your SOUL MATE not a Girlfriend, Fiance or Wife. So don’t abuse relationship companionship, friendship or partnership saying they are trouble builders.

Love is a beautiful thing get a SOUL MATE and your journey in life becomes easy.

Come to think of it, God created Eve in support of Adam, so you both need each other on this trip with love as your navigation.

Author Ridwan Adeyeye


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Eketi Aimé Ette
44 minutes ago ·

“Eketi, you’re busy talking about the ladies only, when we guys like are also suffering.” A friend of mine said this to me a couple of days ago, when I put up a post about spotting the signs of abuse in men. He said men are also on the lookout for wives and many are currently in a dilemma because they got hooked to the wrong lady. Well, gentlemen, this one is for you. I told him if a guy can’t cope with a lady, he should walk away. He then said some don’t know the signs to avoid, well here’s a few.
Since most women are incapable of physical abuse, some have resorted to other forms of abuse like economic, verbal, emotional, etc.

Young man, if you’re in a relationship or about to ask out a woman who is always talking about money, I advise you to think twice. Unless your surname ends with Trump, Gates, Dangote or Helu, or your father’s mother’s cousin’s son-in-law’s driver’s half-sister owns the Cetral Bank, you’re in for a rough ride, Mister. If her interests are always in what you bought for her, how much money you gave her this month….she will bring you grief. This woman is a leech and will milk you to the last drop, then wring you, just in case there are some stray kobos left in your pockets, then she will dry you and dump you. Abeg, borrow my favourite letters for this kind of situation are: R. U. N!

Some women will so verbally abuse you, you’ll wish your mother’s womb could open again and you’ll crawl into that safe cocoon of innocence. She’s rude, sometimes vulgar, calls you all sorts of names, denigrates you, always compares you with your friends and calls it “keeping it real.” I agree…..the real thing is she’ll keep on doing this and will never stop. And unless you can tame the shrew, pack ya kaya and move on! If she always harps on a particular issue forever, repeating those words till they burrow inside your brain like itch-mites and you can recite them by heart, it’s call nagging. Methinks you should flee o! Else, one day, you’ll either wake up in police custody with a murder charge on your head or realise that you’re a recurrent member of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Please, in the name of all that’s sane and logical, don’t be with a woman who is still hung up on her ex. If a woman is always going on and on about how her ex, John was mean to her, cheated on her, didn’t treat her right, etc, bros, unless you’re her shrink and helping her work out her emotional problems, I suggest you pack your luggage and board the next available flight. She is definitely a citizen of Yesterday, living in Baggage House, on Regret street. You will wake up one day, and see a Dear John letter pinned to your pillow.

If a woman keeps telling you that all men are dogs, and how she hates all men except you, her darling boo, just know that network is bad and your matter is hanging. One day, very soon, you will make a mistake or slip up in a little issue. Then her verdict will be delivered and you will join the long list of men in her life who are hated canines.

If a lady compares your relationship to that of Nneka, Sandra or Shade, just know that you’re in the Best Couples of All time Competition…..the only thing is you don’t know you’ve been registered as a contender. For this kind of woman, nothing you ever do with and for her is good enough, because one her friend’s will definitely be better. In my opinion, you would be better off Keeping Up with the Kardashians than with this woman (if you realise how much I hate that empty show, you’ll know this is a really last-resort kinda advice).

Ah, my brother have you met the NEVER DIVA? Like her name suggests, there are things she’ll never do because she believes they are a man’s, servant’s or a professional’s job. She NEVER calls you. She NEVER buys you any gifts. She’s NEVER emotionally available. She NEVER takes you out or even offers to pay for half the meal. She NEVER apologises. She is NEVER wrong. She NEVER compliments you. She’ll NEVER give up anything for you or the family. She’ll NEVER compromise. I can NEVER say this enough…..NEVER hook up with this kind of woman!

There’s this other sister whose favourite song is “Just as I am, without one plea…” The only thing is, she’s not singing it in the original gospel version. Like “Mount Zion which cannot be removeth,” her favourite mantra is “you met me like this and this is how I’ll always be!” and she’ll never love you enough to compromise or change to make you happy. It doesn’t matter if you own a boutique….her skimpy clothes will stay. Don’t bother enrolling her in evening school; her broken grammar will do just fine. That you’re an accountant that can help her with financial advice on saving and investing makes no difference- her money is her own to throw away as she wishes. I can only ask; bros, whence goeth thou?

I am sure I have by no means exhausted the list; the above are the commonest I could think of.
Don’t be like Macbeth whose wife pushed him to commit heinous crimes.

Recently, I heard a popular song by KCee, a Nigerian artiste, in which he pleaded with a girl, saying “oya make we go limpopo…..let me be your maga tonight.”
The Limpopo I know is a South African province and a maga is a fool.
So unless your name is Kcee and you’re a fool who likes visiting places in South Africa, then don’t let yourself be “mumutized” by any woman.


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The ‘kid’ in Wizkid



It all started as a joke, he was simply somebody who nobody would give a second glance. That era has gone. Today, he is an A-list act, headlining shows, getting endorsement deals and basically, making millions. He is called Wizkid.

 No doubt, the young lad has paid his dues as it were, for few years back, nobody would have thought the ‘errand boy’ would grow to become this big. Indeed, his talents and luck, shone and now, Wizkid is a superstar.

 But it seems stardom is getting to his head.

Recently, the Internet was agog when the singer called a fan ‘broke’ for correcting a grammatical error he made.

The singer posted on his instagram that he was about to perform at a wedding with ‘an hangover’. The crime of the fan was telling Wizkid the correct thing to say was ‘a hangover’.

His reply angered fans who quickly reminded him that he was not born rich and it was the ‘broke’ fans who made him who he is at the moment.

Wiz hasn’t only been misbehaving online. The kid took his arrogance to another height when he allegedly poured his drink on a fan in London.

Speculation has it that all the fan did was to reach out to Wizkid to greet him. Probably trying to impress an American hip-hop sensation, Wiz allegedly called the fan, Oloshi (Idiot). The shocked American took to instagram to talk about Wiz’s atiitude.

Although the kid was lucky in London, luck ran out when he allegedly tried ignoring fans who had been waiting to get a glimpse of him in Lagos. This time the fans physically reacted to his arrogance.

Dear Wiz was reportedly stoned by angry fans at the VFS Global Services, Lekki Phase 1 over the his arrogant attitude and his refusal to part with some naira notes despite the much accolades he got from the cheering crowd who were so elated to catch a glimpse of him.

Apparently our wonder boy was in a foul mood or perharps, he wasn’t given a visa for he ‘boned’ and shunned the cheering crowd as he walked arrogantly into the waiting Porsche Cayenne.

It was gathered that Wizkid’s silence and arrogance got the cheering fans angrier and they stoned him as he drove off. Unfortunately for Wizkid, one of the stones hit his side mirror but he didn’t bother stopping anyway.

At the moment, not a few are angry with the kid and his attitude. Some fans told Saturday Beat that it was high time they “boycotted Wizkid.”

Another fan Reginald said, “Wizzy is just a kid and that is what he will be until he grows up! Let’s keep praying he grows soon.”

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