LOVE. TIME. LIFE

It started in January,

with the dry harmattan breeze

our love pushed the blankets away

our love was so warm we didn’t need sweaters

it was the beginning of a tale with a Disney ending
February made it better,

The 14th was just like any other day

We celebrated it everyday

Had already started finishing each other’s sentences

The inside jokes that caused public snickers too
March got serious

We started thinking of kids and a home

Jobs and a flat screen TV on a wall

We had school for three more years

And our kids would go our Alma mater
April got intimate

It wasn’t just jokes that were shared this time

It was heavenly, tender and pleasurable

He was first but I wasn’t

I didn’t mind; I loved this guy
May got comfortable

Flip flops and nighties

Tea and a movie

Cuddles and kisses

Same roof, same bed, same menu

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THE MYSTERY BLOGGER AWARD

Hi guys! So I was in my room watching an old Jennifer López movie: “The Wedding Planner” when I get a WordPress notification telling me that Bookyglover commented on my post. That was when I saw that she had nominated me for an award known as:

The Mystery Blogger Award

photogrid_1476365612975

The Mystery Blogger Award is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging; and they do it with so much love and passion.
– Okoto Enigma

The creator, Okoto Enigma who describes herself as creatively bored, came up with this idea to create a large community of bloggers and also to expose many amazing blogs to recognition. I, personally think its an awesome idea and I hope it continues to grow even more than it already is.

Thanks a lot Booky for giving me this opportunity to join this community and to help spread this concept too! This was very unexpected!

I am supposed to nominate at least 10 others, so if I have nominated you, here are the guidelines:

  1. Put the award logo/image on your blog
  2. List the rules.
  3. Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  4. Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well
  5. Tell your readers 3 things about yourself
  6. You have to nominate 10 – 20 people
  7. Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog
  8. Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify)
  9. Share a link to your best post(s)

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CHINWE’S TALE

“My name is Chinwendu Okezie and I am in Primary One andI am here to present a rhyme titled ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’”. She looked so cute in her pink dress that her mother patiently made for her in preparation for her school’s prize giving day ceremony. Her mum looked at her from the crowd as she looked so cute with the pretty pink bow on her fluffy afro hair and suddenly remembered how difficult it was to get Chinwendu to stay still. At the end of her rendition, little Chinwendu was overwhelmed with the applause she got from the crowd as she tried hard to gracefully step down from the stage with the help of Miss Martha her class teacher.
“And second position goes to Chinwendu Okezie!” Mr.Martin said almost screaming on the microphone. “Clap for her, clap for her!”
“Go and collect your gift now! Stand up osiso!” Ogonna said to her daughter who, for reasons unknown to her, seemed disappointed. Chinwendu sighed deeply, stood up and walked slowly to the miniature stage in front to collect her gift.

When the party was over and Ogonna was done greeting Chinwe’s teachers with small envelopes of 300 naira as instructed by her husband, She led her daughter out of the school compound. When they had boarded a bus to Rumuola bus stop, Ogonna allowed her thoughts to drift while still clutching her daughter protectively on her lap and her purse under her armpit. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice that her baby had been quietly sobbing all the while.
“Ewo, Chinwe what is it? Why are you crying? Is the bus too tight?”
Chinwendu replied by slowly moving her head from side to side.
“Then what is it? Is it the second position?”
Chinwendu nodded.
“Mtchewwww! Is that why you are crying? You are my star! My Princess! You don’t need first position to make you feel special now. Ngwa come here” Ogonna said pulling her close. Continue reading

WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO US?

Hello guys, i’m really sorry about the long absence. I had just resumed school and have been working on a lot of things. I didn’t want to put up posts that seemed rushed so I just stayed away until I got a level head.

Today we are going to talk about something. It’s a question actually.

WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO US (CHRISTIANS)

I was in my room on a Saturday morning trying to do my Yoga workout. I was following instructions from a video I downloaded from youtube and I had a headset on.

“…and now slowly ascend from a lounge into a warrior pose-” 

*knock knock*

“…make sure your left knee is bent while you slowly descend into warrior 2 and hold-“

*knock knock*

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NECHE’S TALE

It was 3:00 p.m and I heard it again- Ariana Grande’s ‘Side to Side’ blasting from my nokia phone which was probably somewhere in the living room. I heard it the first time but it was faint as the shower was on and I was singing to myself.

I traced the sound to the sofa in the living room and saw it there vibrating on the couch. I looked at the phone screen.

‘Mum’

“Hello?” I said into the receiver knowing exactly what she was about to say.

“Bia Neche, okwa i ka no n’uno?” she asked in igbo. “What are you still waiting for? Madame Uju would soon leave and she is a very impatient woman! Do fast and get out of that house!”

Mrs. Uju. I remember the last time I had to go with her somewhere. I was supposed to go with her to Ozubulu on an errand. My mum called me an hour before hand telling me she was impatient and I took this piece of information for granted. It was until I had to board a bike in pursuit of her grey mazda wagon car that I understood exactly what the word ‘impatient’ meant.

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CHRONICLES OF MY NHJ: MY PLANS FOR HARMATTAN

Hey everyone! It’s been a while right? I’ve been busy trying to write more stories for us to read. I completely forgot that I owe the naturalistas consistent gist about my natural hair journey.

SO FAR SO GOOD

Well, right now I have gotten to that point where my hair cannot scare me again or throw me of balance. I know exactly what works for my hair and doesn’t and next year I’m going to start experimenting on branded products and see which ones work for me.&

As we all know harmattan is nigh and this is when we know the brave naturalistas. Me? I am very shy. I just kent deal! It is very possible for you to wear your hair out this period though but you have to be read to get your mosturising game and your head wrap mojo on.

For me who is not confident in her consistency in mosturising, protective styling is the way forward. I am going to protect my hair this period in two ways:
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STORY – CHINDA’S TALE_4

I was so happy and couldn’t wait to tell grandma the good news. I ran into the compound and saw a police van. A police van? I stopped in my tracks, too scared to enter the house. What was a police van doing in grandma’s house?

“Mama? Mama?!” I said running into the house. When I got inside the living room, I saw grandma arms folded  and two police men standing and talking to her.
“Granny what is it? What is going on?!” I asked rushing to her side seeing that she was in distress.
“Nda your mother…your mother..your mother…” she said trailing off before hissing and shrugging.
“Ermmm madame,  we shall take our leave now. We suggest you go and see her as she named you as her next of kin. Good day” the policeman said before exiting the apartment.
When the police men had left the compound, I asked her again what the issue was.
“Wait…is mummy dead?” I asked expecting only one answer.
“My daughter is not dead. Tufiakwa. It’s not her time” granny said passing her hand over her head.
“Then what is it nau? What did the police say?” I continued impatiently.

STORY – CHINDA’S TALE_3

“…and so I stabbed him with the letter opener and ran out of…” I paused when her phone rang.
“It’s your mother” she said showing me the phone screen.

“Mama please don’t tell her that I am here. Please I don’t want to go back there. Please” I begged hopelessly.
“Hello” she said into the receiver. I couldn’t hear my mum on the other end but from what I could hear, there was something about a robbery, someone going to the hospital and a police report. When mama was done with the phone call, she looked me in the eye and asked me if I was telling the truth.
“Mama, I swear, that man is a monster! See my neck” I said, showing her the faded scars on my neck and thighs.
“Your mother just called me to tell me that armed robbers attacked her husband and stabbed him. She said that she has gone to file a missing person’s report for you because her husband thinks the robbers may have taken you” mama explained.
“Jesus! It’s a lie mama. He tried to do it again! He’s lying! He’s lying” I screamed with tears rolling down my cheeks “He’s a liar!”

…SO WE COOKED MY SON AND ATE HIM

“Speak woman! How may I help you?”

She fell to the floor exhausted, tears gushing down her eyes. She was tired. She lacked the words to explain what had just happened to her. What had she just done to herself? Would the king kill me? How was I to explain the inexplicable? Drowning in her own thoughts, she wailed again in the king’s palace,

“Help me, your majesty”

“Speak woman, what’s your trouble?” The king asked again as he obviously began to lose his patience

Trying to put herself together, she knelt before the king. I have to try. There is nothing left to lose

“Your majesty,” she said, taking a deep breath, “The other day a woman suggested that we eat my child and then eat her child the next day. I didn’t have a choice. Things went beyond my control. It was the only way out. So we cooked my son and ate him. The next day, I told her we had to eat her son but she hid him from me”

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STORY – CHINDA’S TALE_2

“Chii? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She asked, touching my temple. I just stared at her because I didn’t even know what to say to her. As I opened my mouth to speak, I burst into tears. Amidst my tears, I told her everything and even showed her the bruises on my wrists, my forehead, my neck and my thighs. When I was done, I looked at her face expecting a reaction – any reaction. Anger, sadness, hatred, pain – anything. Instead, I saw disgust, disbelief and betrayal.


“What exactly is this you are telling me?” She said, letting go of me and moving away

“Mummy, Mr. Kevin raped me! He raped me!! I was…”
“Common shut up your mouth! Foolish child!! I am very disappointed in you. I knew you never like him but I never knew you would go through all this.” she said before turning away from me.
“Mummy…”
“Keep quiet. I need to call the pastor please. I can’t handle this alone. Ah ah, can you imagine?” She said as she walked out of my room. About two minutes later, I heard her on the phone with our pastor asking for an appointment for deliverance because she felt “her daughter has been possessed by the devil himself. I felt weak, I suddenly had a throbbing headache that forced me to my knees. I slowly sat down on the floor and I was totally blank. I didn’t know what to think or say because if my mother didn’t believe me, then there was nothing I could do again. It couldn’t have been a dream because the red and purple bruises on my arms and thighs were a constant reminder of the reality of that night.