In Pursuit of Kyenpia (The Unpublished Tales of a Lagos Playboy) by Sally

My name is Leonel Afamdi Igwe. I am 32 years old. A psychologist, hypnotherapist and a hotel entrepreneur. I speak Yoruba, Hausa, French and pidgin. I don’t speak Igbo, so please stop calling me your brother. About brothers, I have two of them and they are soldiers. My father is also a soldier, the only field marshal in Nigeria, a title he conferred on himself which no one had the balls to oppose. I once had a sister but she died. She didn’t even know who I was. I have aunts and uncles and cousins I can’t count and a grandfather too rich to imagine, he stopped counting his money years ago when his account read $987, 654, 3210… Everyone’s waiting for him to die but he might outlive us all. Some call him Baba Die-hard.

I love to play football and computer games. I watch movies during the weekend, that is if I am not rolling under the sheets with some hot chick. I am a ladies’ man and I make no apologies for that. I love them; they love me, what can I say? I like my beer, cocktails, fried rice and payback served cold. I don’t have any of those dumb talents like singing, dancing, acting, writing or cooking. I only have talent for making money. #AuthenticIgboBoy. I’m still not your brother. I have tons of friends. Most of them want my money and I am very generous with it if only they grew boobs and vaginas.

I love God, I just don’t show it. Funny thing, I go to church regularly, pay my tithe and all that but the moment the pastor starts over-dwelling on fornication, I’m out of there.

I am normal-looking, quite tall, dark complexioned like my father with a scar on my forehead but it’s my eyes that tag me as ‘handsome’. Girls just want to strip nude when I look at them and I don’t get it. Some chick once told me she was making love to my eyes and not me. I dumped her. Yes, I am like that. Arrogant and nice at the same time; I change like neon lights. I change because I cannot help myself. I have a disorder…

My name is Daniel Afamdi Igwe. Some person called Leonel lives in me. He has for 17 years now. He is a sorry son of a depraved, wanton, vile man. I am not Leonel; Leonel is not me. We are very different. I pray every morning and night because I believe I am a good man but what good I do, he destroys. I dream, he kills it. I fall in love, he makes it. I seek God, he deserts Him. Leonel does his best to ruin my life. Imagine waking up in the arms of some nameless girl with smudged make-up, smelling of sex I never had and demanding that I drive her home. That’s what he does to me. He always leaves me to clean his mess.

I love to write but I have always get blank after the first few lines. How I am writing this, I know not. I love guns and when I hold them, I intend to use them. If there’s nothing or no one to shoot, I shoot myself. I feel no pain but my heart aches for love. I long to be with family, with my mother though she is long gone. I hate my father for this.

I am in love with a girl. Her name is Kyenpia. She will bear my child but she has no idea. I’ll do whatever it takes to have her and she will be mine forever. But first I have to come out and play and leave mines Leonel would step on. I don’t intend to kill him but to weaken him until the time he bends to my will and we merge into one. There is one big problem, though, this other shadow that lives inside of me…

They call me Spirit. Other times, I am called Leonel or Daniel though I am neither. I am a collection of dreams and aspirations a father once wished upon his son. I am what you would call a generational sin, a curse passed down from a forefather. Dormant I was for decades until I found a perfect host. I am ruthless and care not for anything except my desires. I am accountable to no one because I simply do not exist. Call me a shadow and I will remain that way for that is what I really am.

Did I mention I love women?


I always seem to be in trouble. I get up in the morning, take my bath, dress up, leave my apartment and jump into trouble. Somewhere in the middle, I have meaningless sex.

Once upon a time when I was 26 years old, I met a woman whose biological clock had just ticked a few weeks past 33. Her name was Stella. She was my type—creamy chocolate skin, full backside, a gorgeous face, fashionable and very bubbly. At first, she thought she was dealing with a child until I re-educated her on what sex was. After our third night together, she said she was in love with me. I thought it was a joke but the chick just wouldn’t let me be from that moment. I was introduced to her friends a month later. Five fat sugar-mommies, horny as hell and desperately looking for cubs like me to destroy. She told them how I double-rainbowed on her every night and they all began to circle round me like jackals surrounding their prey. They asked if I had friends and I lied. One of them joked about all of us having a sevensome and I almost threw up. That night while in bed, not with Stella, I decided to end the relationship with her. When I told her the next day, she was devastated and cried like a baby. Women are all the same—young, old, rich, poor—they are just too emotional. The breakup was nasty and I had to travel out for a while before she stopped stalking me. She promised to make my life a living hell and I thought she was kidding until I saw her in January at a the lounge bar in my hotel.

Now 39 and still unmarried, she was fat and depressed. Her friends were with her. One was wearing a wedding ring or was it something her babalawo had given her?

“Leo!” Angie, the slimmest amongst them called and I grit my teeth tightly. I had seen them but pretended not to. I was hurrying outside to meet my guys waiting for me.

“Hello ladies,” I smiled blandly and walked to them.

“Oh my goodness! You are so hawt!” Angie said.

“He’s been hot ever since,” Buckteeth commented. I don’t know her name and that’s because I never saw the rest of her; I only used see her teeth and they were still there staring at me like bulldozers.

“Why don’t you sit with us? It’s Stella’s birthday,” said Titi, Stella’s best friend. Stella looked at me, searching my face. I saw hope in her eyes and crushed it.

“I am sorry, ladies. My fiance’s waiting for me. Happy birthday, Stella.”

“Sit down, Leonel.” Sugar pulled me and sat me down hard on a chair that materialized out of nowhere. Sugar was the leader of the gang; she was heavily wadded and called the shots. She scared the hell out of me. “Just a drink, baby,” she winked at me and her hand stroked my thigh briefly. “I’m sure your sweet, little thing won’t hassle if you got to her thirty minutes late.”

I thought of Ada. She would be dressed in her shorts and tank top, watching TV but seriously wondering if tonight would be the night I would finally pop her cherry.

“So what have you been up to, handsome?” Amina asked. She was the one with the wedding ring.

“Well, you know, this and that,” I answered and pinged one of my friends to inform them to go on ahead without me. Sugar stretched for my phone and took it and made sure her hand remained on mine a second longer.

“No phones when friends hang out ,” she said and that was the last I saw of that phone. My cocktail was brought. It was a Jus de Bissap. Stella remembered it was my favorite. I saw her smiling as I put the drink to my lips and I smiled back. I would later realize that smile meant something sinister.

“Just to keep you updated,” Buckteeth said, “Amina got married…”

“To a complete idiot!” Sugar completed and they all laughed, including Amina. No one dared oppose her.

“Wow! Congratulations, Amina,” I said. She beamed back and they began to tell me all about themselves and what they had been doing these past six years. Sugar got married to her third husband and divorced him, Buckteeth now ran a boutique in VI, Angie was duped by her boy toy who made away with all her life’s earnings, Titi was pregnant for a senator and Stella… Well, I didn’t miss anything in Stella’s life. She was still crazy for me.

An hour into all this update, I started feeling really tickled in my pants and apart from that, slightly woozy. Being a sharp guy and all, I put two and two together and arrived at the conclusion that I had been drugged. The thought amused me tensely. Stella knew me. She didn’t have to go through these lengths to get me to satisfy her. I could last all night and all day if she wanted. All I needed was my ego stroked and dirty talk…

“Are you okay?” Sugar touched my thigh again and I responded in a way demeaning to my person. I sprang up immediately from my seat and pulled my shirt down to cover my crotch area.

“Ladies, I have to go,” I said, steadying myself but Sugar pulled me down.

“That was quite rude, baby,” she smiled. “Stay a little longer.

And they all burst out laughing. It was supposed to be a dirty joke but I didn’t get it. Their voices were to me a bad song slowing in warbled tones. I knew what they had given me but couldn’t remember the name; it was to make me more compliant. I knew the other was a drug starting with V. Veegra, Vagra, Viagra, Vigran, Vagrin, Viagra!

“Did any of you slip Viagra into my drink?” I asked and they roared in laughter again. I looked at them through half-closed eyes and giggled at first, then let myself go, laughing heartily. I laughed and laughed and laughed. God, I wished I had stopped and saved my energy but I couldn’t stop laughing. Everything was funny and everything else around me needed to be felt. Breasts spilled in my face, soft hands rubbed my body and lips pushed themselves at me and I don’t remember how I left that table and ended in my suite with five extremely randy women. It was not consensual what happened that night. I was abused, manhandled, despoiled, molested and raped brutally. I begged and cried like a baby and begged again for my life but Stella and her friends were cruel beyond understanding and after four endless hours, as I neared the gates of immortality, they left me. I managed to crawl in a pool of my blood to the only connected phone in the suite hanging on the bathroom wall of the smaller bedroom and dialed reception. My last thoughts as I collapsed over the empty Jacuzzi was about becoming a monk if I survived.

For Better, For Worse (Jamila) by Sally





The twins were playing in her backyard. David who was always weak after running around, ran to her panting, telling her Daniel was sticking his leg into a muddy pool in her tomato garden. She called Daniel’s name but the mischievous boy hid from sight and wouldn’t come out. Finally, she left the kitchen and went after him and the moment she stepped into the garden, darkness that started like a smudge in the sky spread above her in a rapid surge and she heard a frightened scream. She turned around to see who amongst the twins had screamed like that but she discovered she was no longer in the garden but a graveyard. At her feet was a tombstone in marble and engraved on it was: Daniel and David Igwe. Came Together. Died Together. Gone to Heaven Together. RIP.

“God forbid!” Jamila sprang up, waking from her nightmare. She looked around her and noted that she was sitting alone. The entire waiting room was dead silent.

“Ma’am?” a female voice called and she turned to face a young nurse who had just emerged from Daniel’s room. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Jamila nodded and stood up. “Can I go in now?”

“Yeah, sure but you can’t stay too long, though. We only let in one person at a time and his parents are already there, so…”

“I won’t stay long. Thank you,” Jamila said through a tired smile and walked in. Luke and Emem were both asleep. Exhausted from keeping her eyes open for three whole days, Emem finally closed them about an hour ago and Luke who had been sleeping for almost three hours before that didn’t look like he was going to wake anytime soon. Earlier in the day, David was transferred to a specialist hospital where he was under strict medical observation and there were talks of an imminent surgery if his condition didn’t improve. Jamila secured her veil around her body tightly and in prayer, she counted her beads, moving her lips silently. She too was exhausted, having shuffled from one hospital to the other throughout the day, the stress was beginning to bear down on her weighty body. It was already 5am and yet Daniel made no signs of life; he just lay there like one long dead. She sighed, pulled a chair and sat beside him.

A song had been in her head all day. She hummed it to David earlier as he lay on his own sick bed, smiling weakly at her. He had held her hand and tried to hum along but his staccato breathing prevented him, so he smiled instead and every now and then, asked if his brother had woken up. Finally when the drugs he had been administered began to take effect, he begged to be carried on her laps so he could sleep and she promised that if he could just close his eyes, she would carry him like old times and hum him to sleep. The moment he shut his eyes, he went into deep slumber and she sat there for long, watching him until a nurse asked her to leave. Now here she was beside his twin, the song still on her mind, stuck in her throat. Maybe if she hummed he would hear her deep in his dreamless unconsciousness and it would stir up something and bring him back.

She reached out and touched his hand and it was cold. Tears instantly came to her eyes. He felt dead. Her little boy didn’t feel alive. He really was gone.

This was her boy, her little angel. From the moment he and his twin were born, she had fallen in love with them immensely. Not able to have kids of her own, she took care of her siblings’ children as if she had birthed them herself. They dumped the children on her the same way they dumped the load of all their problems and she never complained. She was the female version of her father. They both were generous, cheerful  givers, holding nothing back, willing to give their all and not care if they got nothing in return.

“Ma’am?” the nurse had come back. Jamila looked at her and stood slowly. She planted a goodbye kiss on Daniel’s forehead. She hadn’t yet made her peace, yet she whispered, “good night, Daniel. We will one day meet in al jannah.” She walked slowly to the door, tears blinding her vision from seeing him properly. Rigorously she wiped her tears with her veil as if trying to erase the agony she was feeling within and as she stood by the door and gave him one last look, she doubted if she could remain when the machines would be disconnected in less than an hour. How could Emem be sleeping so peacefully when her son would soon be taken by death’s angel? Surely the twenty-two year old mother of two knew something none of them knew because some sort of peace had come over her but Jamila didn’t care. No mother should be sleeping at a time like this. Ignoring, the scolding eyes of the nurse, she turned towards Emem to wake her and it was then she caught a slight movement in the corner of her left eye. So slight it was it could have been her imagination. But she saw it again and when she turned to see what it was, her mouth flung wide open. Daniel was staring at her with open eyes. After the first two seconds of shock, fear crept in for another two seconds and a thought crossed her mind that he was dead, that he had opened his eyes one last time and passed on. But the EKG was still beeping in rhythm and his fingers were clutching and releasing his robot. She tapped Emem, rushed to Luke and shook him firmly but quietly, afraid that any noise might push the boy back. Luke sat up immediately and turned to her.


She pointed and he followed her finger as it rested on his son.

“Daniel?” he whispered and Emem sat up with a spring.

“Daniel!” Jamila rushed to the child but like Emem held back from holding him, scared that they might hurt him.

“Daniel, can you hear me?” Jamila asked.

“Nurse!” Luke called but it seemed the nurse had gone to call the doctors and seconds later, a doctor and a couple of nurses rushed in and pushed them all out. Thirty minutes seemed like two hours as they waited restlessly for the doctors who eventually wheeled Daniel out to another room where no one was allowed in. Two hours later, Doctor O’Grady came out to meet them.

“How is he?” Luke asked and the doctor smiled.

“He’ll make it.”

Emem burst into tears and Luke held her. “Can we see him?”

“Not yet, we are running tests still but he keeps calling for his brother. Have you found out how David is doing?”

“We will, but what happened? How did he wake up?”

O’Grady shrugged, “never seen anything like this in my life. Your son was dead, sir. That I can bet my career and life on.” He shook his head, “but this other thing…this is nothing short of a miracle. When we are done, we’ll let you see him.” He smiled and walked away.

“I want to go and check on David,” Jamila offered, “and maybe get you people something to eat.”

Emem nodded in gratitude and Jamila walked down the hall to the double doors that led outside. There was still that hum on her lips as she hurried out and all the exhaustion from the past few days instantly disappeared. The moment she pushed open the doors, past a couple of guards she never remembered seeing, she stepped into a myriad of reporters outside. She almost lost her step and leaned backwards into strong hands that held her. It was one of the soldiers in her security detail. He pulled her through the crowd of screaming foreign voices and she was almost tempted to stop and answer their questions about whom they were now calling the “miracle of the decade” but she remembered her father’s stern warning about American pressmen, so she released a smile and fell into the car the soldier led her to.



Three Months Later




Jamila smiled to herself as she pushed away several popular, foreign magazines and newspapers whose headlines she had being going through on her bed back home in Lagos. She had only returned from the States two hours ago and longed for nothing but to stretch out and have a good sleep. Her boy was okay and so was she; it was time to move on to the next phase which was to take a much needed and carefully planned vacation. She wanted to visit her mother (Hajiya) in Sokoto to eat meals like tuwo shinkafa and miyan kuka, to inhale the dustiness of the northern air from the Sahara, to feel the sun burn her face and spend time with old friends from school. Luke will accompany her and stay for a week and it will be like old times because Hajiya would spoil them silly and retell tales of her simple life before she met their father and became his first wife. At this point, Luke will either be snoring away or reading a newspaper with feet stretched out on his mother’s laps as she groomed him. Yes, Jamila will enjoy her long vacation at home. The simple life was surely priceless…

Someone was banging on the door very loudly. Jamila sprang up, wrapped herself in her kimono and rushed out. She hurried downstairs and unlocked the door, letting Evelyn in. It was raining heavily outside and she was soaked through and through and was already causing a poodle of water where she stood.

“Ev, what is the matter?”

Evelyn looked round, her eyes scanning the ceiling and walls hysterically.


“They are hearing us. Everything we say and do, they are listening,” she whispered.

“Yes, I know,” Jamila smiled warmly. “They record everything. It’s for our own good. Why don’t you come upstairs and change into something dry and then we can talk?”

“No!” Evelyn moved away from her touch, “no, I can’t stay. I have to go back before Sam starts looking for me.”

Jamila narrowed expert and scrutinizing eyes at Evelyn starting from the top of her head and when she got to her mid-section she discovered the woman’s dress was stained in blood that the rain had somehow not washed away.

“Ev?” she took her hand, “come with me into the toilet where no one can hear us and you can tell me everything.”

Evelyn scanned the place one last time and allowed Jamila lead her into a guest toilet a few feet away from them.

“Okay, you can talk to me now.”

Evelyn squeezed her face beyond recognition and burst into tears. Jamila put her warm, cuddly arms around her and did her best to calm her. A few minutes after, Evelyn pulled away, sniffed and blurted, “Sam is a killer!” she looked at the light bulb above and continued, “he killed my sister.”


“And I’m taking her to the police as evidence. I’m reporting him!”

“Evelyn, relax and talk to me. What happened?”

“I will tell them everything! I will tell them all about you people and how you all kill people! I will tell them!”

With that she opened the door and ran out.


Related Posts–> For Better For Worse (Emem)

For Better For Worse (Evelyn)

                                                            For Better For Worse (Luke)

Test-the-Terone (21 Questions) by Terver Trump Malu and Sally

Test-the-Terone      …for men and the women who really know them

Recently, I asked over thirty women via the net that if they had just one question to ask the opposite sex, what would it be? It might surprise you the type of responses I got. *clears throat* I had to censor some but by and large, my conclusions were that females are not the only species that need figuring out. Men leave a lot of unanswered questions about the very outlandish ways they behave. Many times, couples fight because women simply don’t understand that boys will just be boys no matter what anyone does. Mothers who have raised them know this and in another world, we would be going to them for answers but today, I have decided to dump the load on just one guy.

Yes, Terver is here again to answer your questions, ladies. This should prove interesting because some of the questions are, like I said… hmmmm…

Just go on ahead and read for yourselves, guys. Of course, ladies, he will be speaking in manguage. If i were you, I would read between the lines at the not-so-obvious manswers.

1.      Why do men run away from commitment? Penny

TERVER: Well Penny, I think it is a bit unfair to generalize that all men run away from commitment. However, the best way I can explain this is by giving you an illustration. A single guy is like a lion in the jungle, wild and free. Committing yourself to a relationship is like capturing that lion and keeping him in a zoo where all his activities are monitored for the rest of his life!

SALLY: Never really seen a lion that found it hard to break out during the hunt. Kiss the zookeeper and get the key!

2.      How can you date and love one woman and shag another and clean your

mouth like nothing happened? Melly

TERVER: Hi Melly. Before I answer that question, I think it is important that I state here that every man’s first basic instinct is Sex…not reproduction, just good ol’ sex. Unlike women, men have the ability to completely separate emotions from Sex. A man can be truly, madly and deeply in love with his partner but still want to bang the sexy house girl…its second nature. That doesn’t mean that every guy is sleeping with everything though, some of us are able to hold back.

 3.      Why do men have erections early in the morning? Miriam

TERVER: The morning erection (aka morning glory) is like a self-automated test. It’s nature’s way of checking to see that all systems are go for the day….

SALLY: Wow! what a world of very healthy men!

4.      Why are men just clueless? Glen

TERVER: Because a large appendage of our brains is found in between our legs and we don’t use it for thinking half the time. Women should know that men don’t understand women’s subtle hints or subliminal messages (when you say you’re fine when you’re actually not), we believe you! What can I say we are the less intelligent gender?

SALLY: Gbam!
5.      Is it really possible for a guy to be faithful to only one girl
especially if she is in a town far away from him? Promise

TERVER: Yes it is….but that guy also probably has an ‘S’ tattooed on his chest and walks around in blue tights and a red cape.

Somebody save me!

SALLY: Awwww…. But we love that ‘S’ guy.

6.      Why are straight men homophobic? Mnena

TERVER: There is absolutely nothing natural about 2 guys wanting to screw each other. Just the thought of it would make any heterosexual guy cringe…which comes off as homophobia. Its alien to our Culture and I really doubt that it will ever be accepted as a norm.

7.      What’s the worst lie you have told? To whom? And were you caught? Fatima

TERVER: When I was a teenager I lied about my age a lot of the time because I had a thing for older girls. I once told a girl I was 25 when I just only 17, she was 26. She caught me but it wasn’t really a big deal. We didn’t date for long though.

SALLY: Oh, you cub. so you like cougars, huh?
8.      How fat is your bank account? Fola

TERVER: It looks a little something like this…N230, 594, 4..…. Oh wait that’s my account number!.….. well I would humbly say I’m doing okay.

SALLY: Ladies, I have his BB pin, phone number and house address. And he’s single too.

9.      Do you guys keep a secret child somewhere? Sandra

TERVER: Huh?..

SALLY: Sandra, a secret child is a secret child. Some sow their wild oats and never go back for harvesting.
10.    Why is it that only few men can be trusted? Ana

TERVER: Well Ana, I think that is a personal decision. It’s a bad world and people generally cannot be trusted naively.

11.     Must you like sports/ games? Deola

TERVER: We have to! It’s the only time when we don’t have to think about bills, problems; women….please just allow us our 90minutes in a day

12.     Do you think you are more superior than women? Chi-chi

TERVER: Absolutely! I also believe that women might be the more intelligent gender but from ants to lions to monkeys and even fishes, the male specie is always the leader of the pack.

SALLY: That’s why we love to put the lion in the cage.

13.     What does it feel like carrying ‘it’ around? Tonia

TERVER: like a demi god! Question is how does it feel not having “it..”..i guess that’s why men are Cocky…*wink*

SALLY: Cocky, Terver, really? You just had to say it!

14.     Why don’t men show emotions? Faith

TERVER: Showing all your emotions can be read as a sign of weakness. Iit’s not like we don’t, we just know how to hide it, Faith.

15.     What is with the B’s- big Breasts and big Butts and Beer? Destiny

TERVER: First of all, Beer is the single most genius invention ever! 2, Men don’t have boobs so we’re fascinated by it, plus that was the first part of the female anatomy we were introduced to at birth. Lastly in the words of a great man, “a big booty makes the sex last” –Ludacris

SALLY: Ladies, the real truth about the B’s is something like this–> big breast+big butts+beer= baby bump, broken heart, his big beer belly and a lot of BS.
16.     How often do you think about sex in day? Lami

TERVER: I think it varies for different peopleFor me personally I guess it depends on the environment, the situation and company I find myself around…nothing extra ordinary though

SALLY: Yeah, ’cause ordinary just does it for them most of the time.

17.     My boyfriend won’t visit me if he’s broke and I tell him I don’t
really care about the money, so I want to ask if making money comes
before being with your beaus? Kate

TERVER: Money definitely plays a huge role for a guy in a relationship. When a guy is broke, it sometimes affects his confidence and ego because any self-respecting man wants to be able to provide for his girl all the time. But if and your boyfriend have been dating for a while, I see no reason why he should be so insecure.

18.     What do you guys talk about when you hang out to drink? Esther

TERVER: Football, politics, women (other than our partners), money, career, did I mention money?

SALLY: Did he mention More Women?
19.     If you woke up discovering you turned into a woman overnight, what
would you do? Marcie

TERVER: Go back to sleep until I wake up from that nightmare!

I’m not really smiling

SALLY: Haba, Terver, it’s not that bad.

20.     Who comes first, your mother or your wife? GG

TERVER: Wow that is a tough one GG….but my Wife and Kids will come before anything else.
And one last one from me:
21.     Why do guys shake hands unnecessarily? For instance, a guy goes,
‘mehn, how did you see that game last night?’ and the other goes, ‘ah,
our team whooped their asses!’ then they laugh and shake hands. What’s
up with that? Sally

Lol……….it’s just our way of bonding. Lions rub up against each other, dogs sniff each other’s butts….. We shake hands.

SALLY: And ladies give each other the ‘eye’.

And this pretty much wraps it up. Anyone has answers to the questions above? Please, share!

Terver “Trump” Malu is an entrepreneur and CEO of manswersonline and the self proclaimed undisputed King of Monopoly board game.

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In A World That’s Dissappearing – condoms for kids?

Growing up in a conservative Christian home as a minister’s kid, there were certain things we never talked about and number one on the list was sex. When I had my first period, my mom went like, ‘now if a man touches you, you will get pregnant,” and that was it for Sex Education 101. At school, some of my friends told me that if you use the same toilet boys used, you could get pregnant because they leave sperm on the toilet seat and they can swim and get into you. If you asked me what went on during sex, I would have probably told you that adults rub their bodies together on the bed, under the blanket and that was all. Of course, I knew there was more to it but once you’re naïve, you are naïve until… well, until you stop being naïve.

Eventually, I knew all about sex from Mills and Boon, TV, friends, school and other educative media but to be honest, I wished my parents had sat me down and told me all about it. Yeah, well, thinking of it now, that could have scarred me but seriously, it would have helped a great deal. I am sure my story’s not just peculiar to me alone but to a lot of youth from my generation. I met some friends though, who told me their parents gave them graphic details but that is just a small fraction of the population. In countries like the United States, giving your child ‘the talk’ is a normal thing every parent has to go through. I know some don’t but most of them do and in my opinion, that is the best way to prepare a child for the world of sex he or she is going to have to face. In Nigeria, we have a big problem facing us and there is this hypocritical air that we float in that we have termed ‘African culture or tradition’ that is destroying us. How many times have I heard in Africa, we don’t do this or that. It’s for the white man. Our religious institutions would rather talk about 100 ways to kill the devil than properly teach teens about sex.

Now, for those of you who don’t know, there are now condoms offered to twelve year olds in Switzerland and a school in Massachusetts in the States was also considering sharing free condoms  to their twelve year olds and i think it is now available so you can order it and it would be delivered to your home (not in Naija). Now, I have two thoughts on this issue. Like most people, when I first got wind of this information, I was worried and a lot of bad thoughts as to how this could go wrong for the future generation bugged my mind. First, what does a twelve year old know about sex? I mean, in this child’s mind, is he/she saying, ‘I’m making love to this person because I am matured enough to be in charge of my emotions, my mind, my spiritual and physical expressions at the moment’? or is he/she just ‘doing’ as the world has told him/her that that is what sex is all about—just doing. Meaning, it’s all about the pleasure. And I ask again: for twelve year olds, is sexual pleasure made complete in their underdeveloped bodies or does the word spring up because they’re told they have to enjoy it?

Secondly, with the increasing number of pedophiles and sick, perverted adults in our society, is it wise to get a child sexually active at this age, making it easy for these beasts to prey on them. Of course, child abuse has been an issue as old as time. I remember being in a salon somewhere and it amazed me how every girl there (about eight of us) had been abused during childhood. All the same, do we make it a free-for-all for pedophiles that live and breathe amongst us?

After considering the above (not the photo), I calmed down and revisited the the condom issue and looked at it conversely and I began to see, though vaguely, from that point of view and these were my deductions. Sex is everywhere. It’s on TV, internet, radio, phones, newspapers, posters, billboards, cinema…  everywhere! I’m certain even my eleven month old has been exposed to it on TV despite all my protectiveness and who knows what has sipped into her brain that even I could not stop. The other day, a video about a teenage girl and a four year old boy having sex was made available for download on the web and before that, a photo of a four and six year old having sex under a table also went viral. Somewhere in the South-west, last year, a ten year old girl had a baby for her boyfriend, a twelve year old boy. Cases like these are not isolated and are becoming rampant around the world, especially now when we have grandmothers from the ages of twenty-four and twenty-five. In the midst of all this, these children are now very exposed to HIV/AIDS and a host of other deadly STDs. And if that be the case, doesn’t it become imperative to encourage the practice of safe sex as against forbidding them from being around the opposite sex and acting like sex just doesn’t exist around them? Now, before you go biting my head off, that was just a thought. I don’t think any sane individual would ever imagine their eleven or ten year old having sex and encourage them into it.

Wow! Having considered both sides of the argument, my conclusion is that in these times, parents and guardians have the grave but very important responsibility of properly tutoring kids about sex. About the timing, it is a matter of personal choice. Children who come from homes where sex is not seen as a taboo or a meaningless act just for pleasure will often face the adult world with a grounded and rounded approach to their sexual issues. Telling a child sex is bad, makes that child only want to do it and when he/she does it and enjoys doing it, then it becomes all about pleasure and the end result is meaningless sex and yes, the even best of us, as much as we want to deny it, know that it is not always all about the pleasure. It is a conscious, mature decision to share oneself with another and if we go giving condoms to twelve year olds who are not mature enough to comprehend this, we can as well be snatching them away from the playgrounds and throwing them into brothels and with our very eyes, we will watch them follow our steps and hand condoms to three year olds in the very near future.

Maybe I am too extreme with my thoughts. I really would love to hear what you think.





Daniel clung to the banister and groggily climbed up the stairs, his little head swaying from right to left. He had never had this much alcohol to drink in his life before. He had had a few shots of palm wine at the presidential villa when he suffered a mild case of conjunctivitis and his grandfather had told him it was good for his eyes. From that moment on, his father had been giving him little sips from his brandy, but nothing like today when he had downed almost half a glass of the burning liquid he had found in the kitchen. Now, he was sleepy and he was going to climb up to his room to give into nature’s dizzy spell. He knew his mother would be angry at him when she got back from church but she would pour out her anger on his father instead for allowing him drink.

He crawled up the stairs and the first thing he saw was the children’s sitting room with its large open glass doors that led to the balcony and for the drunk little boy, his bedroom seemed too far away at that moment. The sitting room welcomed him gladly and he staggered into a blast of cool air that hit his face and made him feel tingly, clearing  his dizzy spell momentarily. With a few more steps, the five year old walked to the balcony and stood before the railing and in no time, still standing, he rested his head and drifted off to sleep. The last sounds he heard were the voices of his father and his soldier colleagues doing their usual Sunday alcohol get-together downstairs.

Now last month, Luke and Emem had gotten into one of their violent fights in which Emem went into her usual fit of throwing things at Luke. It started in this sitting room. She had hurled a heavy encyclopedia at him, he moved backwards to the balcony to dodge it and in the process, fell backwards, slipped on one of the twins’ toys on the floor and hit his back on the railing. They ended their fight that night and each went to their separate bedrooms but none of them knew that Luke’s fall had made the old, rusted rails loose and the moment their little boy rested his weight on them, they gave way and he fell to the concrete floor beneath.

36 Hours Later

Dressed in casual clothes and accompanied by Jamila and a plain clothes bodyguard, Igwe followed a nurse to the private wing of the Head Trauma Center in West Virginia, USA, where Daniel was hospitalized. When he entered the room and Emem saw him, she rushed into his arms and broke into tears. Luke was sitting in a corner, Daniel’s twin on his lap, deep in sleep.

“It’s okay, Emmy. Daniel will be fine,” Jamila assured her and offered to take the sleeping child from his father but Luke held tight. He hardly noticed the presence of anyone else in the room; his eyes were bloodshot and distant. Occasionally, he would turn to his favorite son and stare at his frail body lying on the hospital bed, his arm over his toy robot but with no sign of life in him. The faint regular sounds coming from the EKG and a respiratory machine were the only assurance that the tiny heart was still alive. Luke feared that any minute now and it would all be silent. Then the world will blame him and tell him it was his fault his wife spent the whole of Sundays praying in church; if he was a better husband and father, she wouldn’t need God. They would also tell him it was his fault he had chosen Daniel as his favorite, pushing David to his mother; if he had loved both boys equally, not separating them, they both would have been under their mother’s protective radar and none of this would have occurred. They would blame him for leaving his glass of brandy unattended in the kitchen and say it was his fault the boy learnt to drink alcohol. Yeah, Luke knew very well what would happen. For the rest of his miserable life, the people that lived in that perfect world in his head that reality could not catch up to, would say the death of Daniel was all his fault.

“I’ll get the doctor,” said the nurse who brought Igwe in and she walked out. With his arm still around Emem, Igwe walked to Daniel and slipped his forefinger through his open palm and mumbled a prayer, then he looked at Luke who was not there with them and sighed. Overnight he had turned into a shadow of the man he used to be.

A doctor walked in, followed by another and a third. Emem went back to her seat beside her son and Igwe turned to the practitioners. The first doctor gave him a handshake, “Mr. President.”

Igwe nodded a brief greeting in return and acknowledged the other doctors.

“I am Doctor Steven O’Grady,” the first introduced, “and these are my colleagues, Doctors Scott Coleman and Wendy White.”

“Can we do this outside?” Igwe said walking out and they followed him to the hallway.

“Mr. President, my colleagues and I sympathize–”

“Get on with what you have to say,” Igwe cut him off.

O’Grady adjusted his glasses and began, “your grandson suffered from multiple fractures in his arms and legs–”

Igwe interrupted again, “I already know that. I want to hear about his open head trauma.”

“Yeah…he suffered severe open head trauma from the fall that–”

“Why are you referring to him in past tense?”

O’Grady became uncomfortable as he cleared his throat and continued, “I’m sorry sir.”

“Is he going to make it?” Igwe asked.

“I…am afraid not, sir. Daniel is…brain dead. I’m…sorry, Mr. President.”

Igwe crossed his arms and leaned on the wall beside him, looking straight into O’Grady’s eyes, making him even more uneasy. “So you’re saying there is no electrical activity and no clinical evidence of brain function?”

“Yes, sir. We did everything but it seemed apart from the insult of the initial trauma, he suffered from secondary brain injury maybe through transit…”

Wendy White cut in, “the doctors back in Nigeria did a great job or it could have been worse than this.”

“How are you sure he is brain dead? Is he not the one I see lying on the bed in there?”

O’Grady replied, “there are certain tests we ran which proved a complete absence of brain function—an absolutely flat electroencephalogram–”

“But he is still breathing!”

“Mr. President, to state or pronounce a person brain dead in the United States is a severe medical and legal process, usually requiring neurological exams by two independent doctors, hence the presence of my colleagues. The procedure entails scrupulous examinations to establish if the patient is really brain dead or is in a coma.”

“Just how sure are you that he’s not going to make it?”

White stepped in again, “Mr. President, sir…all you and your family can do right now is spend time with him.”

Igwe took a step closer towards O’Grady, piercing his eyes with his. The doctor tried to hold his gaze but failed and looked down. Something about the man’s eyes scared him deeply.

“And if I am not satisfied with your drawn conclusions and I decide to take him elsewhere, would it be a waste of my time and my resources?”

“This hospital is the best head trauma center in the world. Yes sir, yeah, it would be a waste.”

Igwe rested a warning hand on his shoulder for four long seconds. “For the sake of your reputation, pray to God that you are right.”

He walked back inside.

A Day Later

A second bed was brought into the room for David and placed beside Daniel’s the night before. If Luke ever thought any of his sons was going to spend time in the hospital, it had to be David who was born with Chronic Lung Disease. Daniel also had his own health issues but he overcame them in the first two months and grew to be a normal baby while his twin was near death his whole first year. It was during this time, Luke bonded with Daniel and changed his name to Leonel, meaning ‘young lion’ for to him he won where his brother lost. Now, he wasn’t so sure; the picture looked utterly hopeless. Both boys were bedridden and the doctors had told him this morning that if David didn’t get better by the next day, they might have to transfer him to another hospital for specialist care. His recovery depended on his brother’s a great deal. Luke understood this; he was a twin himself. So different from his sister, Jamila in so many ways especially in ethical matters, yet there was a bond between them that made him feel her heart millions of miles away.

Luke shifted his eyes to his wife and wondered how she was bearing up. The twenty-two year old who was more woman than most her age was resting on a couch by one of the windows, her eyes to the ceiling and lips moving in prayer. He loved her immensely but would never tell her lest it got to her head. Truth was he was madly in love with her and would turn the world away in an instant just to be with her for all of his life. He knew he had his guilty pleasure with his long-standing mistress who also had a son for him but Emem would always be the One. No one knew her like he did. To them, they saw a girl filling in shoes too big for her; to him, she was all woman if she could take him and his crazy all in and not lose herself in the process. Beauty became her so easily that he wanted desperately to tell the world what he felt each time he looked at her. She had this dimple on her left cheek that deepened whenever she smiled and he would just forget his name and become lost. Or was it her graceful fingers that God created and fell in love with so much he just had to take away her voice so the world could see his handwork? How about her lips that hardly ever moved yet spoke volumes every time he felt them between his?

A shiver passed through Emem and she was forced to open her eyes and look in the direction of the door and she saw Luke staring her way. He noticed her looking back at him and pulled himself away from his brief succor to the reality before him.

“The American Catholic people, and a whole bunch of religious zealots are standing outside in prayers and are going to be there all day and the next until they pull the plug.”

Slowly Emem sat up, and looked at him with a question in her eyes.

“May we speak outside?” he asked and she picked her crucifix and followed him out. He gently led her to the wall beside the window and she peeped in on her boys. “Em, Leo…Daniel is brain dead, meaning he is dead without that machine in there. The doctors are waiting for your word.”

She shook her head vigorously and turned away but he blocked her with his arm.

“He is dead. Read my lips, Emem. Dead. You have to come to terms with the reality of the situation.”

She shook her head again.

“There are people outside who have better things to do with their lives and who I would not have putting their white American noses into my personal affairs. Do you hear? So I want you to tell the doctor that he can just end my son’s misery or I swear that I will enter there and do it myself.”

She held him tightly, begging him with her eyes and noticed that he was in tears.

“Give me one more day,” she said, her lips moving. “Just today, and you can do anything after that.”

“One more day for what? For God to step in and do magic?” He forced her head to the window to look at their sons once more. “Do you need a sign from heaven before you can see that God has abandoned us?”

She tried to move away from him but he pushed her back.

“Emem, he is gone.” His lips trembled fiercely, “please, let him go. I can’t…I can’t stand him like this. I blame myself and forever will but please, lessen the pain for me.”

Still mouthing her words, she hit him in the chest, pushing backwards, “Daniel will live!”

He shook his head in tears, drew her back and rested his weight on her. “Please, please hold me. Please,” he sobbed. She put her arms around him and as he felt her hands gently caress his back, he held her tight for strength.


To be continued. . .


similar posts–> for better for worse (Emem)

for better for worse (Evelyn)

Afghanistan Memoirs (Dodged a Bullet) by Leslie Dapwatda

I had the privilege of knowing Leslie while he was in still Nigeria and we became really good friends and honestly, I miss him a lot. There  are some people who step into your life and leave an unforgettable mark in you. Leslie is that type of person. He’s a musician, a minister, a husband, a father and a soldier. He has graciously opened up his memoirs to share what he goes through at the front lines in Afghanistan.

My name is Leslie Dapwatda. I am a Second Lieutenant in the US Army. A Combat Engineer and a leader of men. I got my commission in November 2010 and got to my unit in August 2011 after graduating from the US Army Engineer School (Maneuver Support Center of Excellence) where I attended my Engineer Basic Officer Leaders Course (EBOLC). Before reporting I called my unit to get a status update, to find out what is going on and to give them my status update. When I called I got a fellow lieutenant who told me to get ready to deploy in November. When I got there I was told I wont be deploying, because the Brigades mission does not require a lot of engineers so they would only require 2 Platoons from my company to go and a couple of Squads with Lieutenants in charge of them as Task Force Engineers will support other Battalions that have no need for a combat En platoon. So I was left out of the equation, even though I was very fortunate to get a platoon immediately I got there. You gotta understand that when I got to my new unit there were about 5 other Engineer Lieutenants there waiting for Platoons. One of them was my class mate (OCS, EBOLC), and the other four had been there since the beginning of the year. Some were there November of 2010.
So my Platoon and I were told we weren’t deploying but I had to give up some of my guys to deploy with the other Platoons. There was so much craziness going on at the time. One morning I got called into my CO’s office and was told to get ready to deploy in three weeks. Within those three weeks I was to take my leave, get my medical check ups done and get my shots, get all my equipment ready and get my super Squad of 12 men ready to deploy. It was crazy but we got it all done and I was ready to deploy in three weeks as a Task Force Engineer with 5-20th IN BN, 3-2 SBCT. The duties of a Task Force Engineer includes Engineer planner for the Maneuver Commander, OIC for the super Squad, Engineer adviser, Project management and I will be in charge of route clearing missions.
On my return to JBLM I had a meeting with the BN S-3 and we discussed what kind of mission myself and my team would be involved with. Like I said earlier the job of an TF EN is primarily the EN Planner for the Maneuver Commander. But in this mission it also included me working as the EN adviser to the Commander on project (I will suggest project for the Afghans and then supervise the design and building of such project), maneuver, project management and route clearance for the whole BN In the meeting. I asked the S-3 what kind of equipment they got down rage, and I explained to him the impossibility of us conducting a route clearance mission with less than 24 soldiers. And he told me that our mission is going to be dismounted, meaning we would be conducting missions on foot and they have all the equipment needed for a dismounted route clearance. I left the meeting with an understanding of their intentions and got a picture of how our mission was going to be but we won’t be leaving with them that December, instead we will be joining them in January. So I took that opportunity and went home to be my family for Christmas. I came back ready to deploy and finally got slated to fly out on the 19 Jan 2012. A few days to departure we were told our flight was cancelled due to logistics and we were given a 10 day delay, that 29 Jan 2012 was our next hit time. That means we got our three different dates to deploy already, first two got cancelled. A few days to our departure we received news that there had been an IED (improvised explosive device) explosion and the soldiers were ambushed by the Taliban. There were casualties. Among them a Lt in the same BN (battalion) that we were to deploy with. Now if you remember our job as Engineers is to clear routes and that entails going ahead of the infantry guys and clearing the routes, picking out IED’s to make the road safe for them to accomplish their mission. In a nutshell if we had gone down range at the time we were supposed to go with the same BN, that would have been us right in front of the infantry LT that died, we would have been the ones right on the IED and in the middle of the ambush. We probably would have found the IED because it is our Job, but we would have still been in the middle of the ambush.
Now before my orders to deploy I declared a fast and was praying. So when the orders came and I knew I was deploying I continued to pray for safety in the deployment and that God will protect me and my soldiers. So when our flight dates kept getting cancelled I got stressed and frustrated, but still kept praying for God’s will. I was frustrated because it was costing me and my soldiers a lot of money. We cancelled our leases on our homes, cars, insurance on our cars were cancelled, single soldiers already had their properties picked up and put in storage and all. It was crazy and I had to deal with all that as their leader. It was frustrating. So when we received the news about the incident, God now reminded me that all delays are His ways of keeping us out of danger and protecting us like I prayed. He was simply answering my prayers.I immediately repented and realized that when we pray and believe, we receive and we need to be patient when things are happening. We need to sit back and relax and let God’s will play out. Was I sad to have lost a colleague? Yes, it is the most painful experience to lose someone in battle. But in the same breath I was and still am grateful to God that we weren’t there and He kept His word and saved us from death. We literally dodged a bullet and didn’t even know it.

Check out Leslie’s website and blog:
Follow him on twitter @LeslieNoless

She’s Godiya “D-Kay” Bargo


This bold and beautiful songstress hails from Jaba Local Government Area of Kaduna State. Born into the wonderful family of Rev. Col & Evn. Mrs S K Bargo, Godiya K Bargo had her secondary school education from Federal Government Girls Secondary School, Bwari graduating in the year 2000.

As as result of her strong religious background, Godiya grew up while singing mostly in the choir…this largely influenced her first (gospel) album titled “My Lord” released in 2003. She followed this up with another (gospel) album release in 2004…self titled “D KAY”.

After this she took a music break and started a fashion outfit KPEINOM WEARS which she currently runs till date. Some of her other interests include swimming, dancing, sketching and photography.

She holds a B Sc in Sociology from the University of Abuja (2005) and further went to obtain a PGD in Business Management  2007…her love for music and…

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